


A Hopeful Kind of Sad

by AgapeErosPhilia (AttilaTheHun)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Elvhen Lore, F/M, Family, Healing, Heartbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:59:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 65,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7232920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AttilaTheHun/pseuds/AgapeErosPhilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after Corypheus's defeat, Ellana Lavellan visits her family and Clan for the first time. She hopes to rediscover her relationship to the world, and to herself, outside of the Inquisition, but a specter from her past won't let her forget so easily. She's let him into her home, but will she ever let him into her heart again?</p><p>Note: This does not follow the canon of Trespasser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lavellan

**Author's Note:**

> Another port over from FF! This is by far the most popular fan fic I've ever written - by far - but I've never been entirely satisfied with portions of it, so this may take longer as I do some rewrites. If you're reading for the first time, please enjoy!

Ellana Lavellan slipped once again into the comfortable blanket that was home. Her clan still wandered, as was their way, so nothing around her was familiar except for the things that mattered. Her mother humming as she fletched her arrows with an easy, practiced hand. Her father laughing softly as he held a child and rocked her to sleep. That child had once been her sister, ten years younger than Ellana and very crabby, but now it was her beautiful niece. His granddaughter. While the children of the Clan belonged to all, grandchildren were still regarded with a wonder rarely bestowed by the outwardly emotionless Lavellans.

She wondered what her friends would think of her here. In her time in the human world, she'd come to understand that they saw her as stoic. Composed. Ellana didn't know how to tell them that her feelings were no less deeply felt for being private. She had no words to describe the way that they spoke inside of her so quietly that they couldn't be ignored.

Her friends, human and dwarf and city dwelling elf, were like the waters of the Storm Coast. They roiled and crashed and sent themselves out across the shore of the world without any regard for what they might erase. She loved them for it, for that energy that beat the world away when she ruled in Skyhold. They were the tempestuous heart she could never show, the closed fists she would never make, the open face she would never wear. They made her more than she'd thought she could be. Nevertheless she was glad to be here, with her Clan, only feeling emotions again instead of hearing them across her tender ears.

Even Leliana, the one human she'd met who could easily slip into Lavellan were it not for her own blunted tips, didn't understand. She was outwardly calm, always, but her feelings were hidden from herself as well as the world. She saw them as unimportant distractions. Ellana agreed they were distractions, but they weren't unimportant.

And so that lack of true communion, for all they loved her, meant that the last two years at Skyhold had been a crushing weight on her soul without anyone being the wiser. When her brother's child had come, when it was at last time for a trip away to the quiet forest, she'd never been so relieved. The Clan would be a place where the ceaseless ache could finally change shape.

Maybe she could walk the path from Cullen's office to the War Room without closing her eyes against the pictures that showed her past, painted by the one who would never be her future.

Even as she thought it, her father passed her the child in unspoken comfort, and her heart tightened. Though they didn't understand the nature of her grief, they felt and shared it all the same. She relaxed into their concern, looking at the perfect child in her arms. Alia. Who would have thought her clumsy older brother could produce something so graceful?

"She will be a strong hunter," said her mother. Her voice was the clear bell of a human Chantry, but with none of the fear it invoked. Ellana fell asleep each night, near and far, hearing it sing the hunting songs that she knew so well.

"Or a powerful crafter," said her father, as he said every time. He smiled at his wife with so much love that Ellana could barely breathe for the sight of it. These familiar arguments were everything warm inside her, and she wanted to stay here with them forever. _Oh Alia,_ she thought, _find me the magic that will bring me back here. Away from the Inquisition, from the pain, to just be a Lavellan daughter again who knows nothing of a hurt that won't heal._

The baby slept peacefully, and she stood carefully and passed her back with a nod of thanks. Her father's eyes rested on her newly bare face, and she knew he wanted to ask her about it again. They'd been reassured that she didn't want to become as a human, hadn't changed so much as to be done with her heritage, but she knew they still wondered what it meant for their sad, empty daughter.

"The humans ask too much of you," he said.

"No, Father, they ask exactly enough. The ones with me are wise. Even you might learn something from them, if you could stop gawking at their merchants' booths long enough."

Her mother laughed musically, and her father sat back with a smile in his eyes. "I'm going to see the Keeper," Ellana added, turning away. "He asked me to stop by today."

She stepped out into the dappled sunlight and breathed in the scent of the forest. It wasn't wild, as it should be for the Dalish, though her clan didn't believe the stories she'd told them of the Arbor Wilds and the life that grew out of the earth without end. This tame woods was all they were used to, but that was no shame. It held its own kind of comfort, to be among people whose view of life was so small. It kept her small as well.

As always she waited for a moment, slightly uneasy, until she remembered what was missing. No Inquisition soldiers around her. No guards to hem her in, no swords at her back. As a mage, she was never unprotected, but rarely did she feel so exposed these days. It was freeing, but unsettling. Ellana knew that the Nightingale had likely turned some of her people into her own agents, as naturally as breathing, but those shadowed eyes weren't the same as a metal prison she couldn't help but see. She laughed to herself and walked to the Keeper's shelter across the camp with an easy step. Ellana Lavellan, Inquisitor, come home.

* * *

The Keeper sat on the ground with his staff over his crossed legs, deep in thought. He'd aged considerably since she'd seen him last, and she wondered again why he hadn't passed his title on to his First. She knew she wasn't the only one to question his continued leadership. The Keeper seemed to be waiting for something, but what it was no one knew. They were hoping the Inquisitor would wheedle it out of him, as she had so many things when she was a child, but the pathway of innocent persuasion was well-closed to her now. When she spoke, the power of a military movement was behind it, whether she wanted it to be or not.

She sank next to the older elf without making a sound. Nevertheless, as he always did, he greeted her without opening his eyes. "Ellana. You are late, child."

"I wasn't aware we'd made an appointment," she said, smiling. "Can I be late to something with no fixed time?"

He opened his eyes and smiled back. "To the ancient, youth is always late."

"Well, when I find an ancient person, I'll be sure to be more punctual. You're too young to speak of such things." Ellana plucked a blade of grass and spun it through her fingers. "So what did you wish to discuss with me?"

"Such haste. Have the quicklings taught you nothing but speed? A teacher needs no reason to speak to a student but that he desires it."

"The humans have taught me more than I ever dreamed, but they could never make me unlearn the deepest lesson of my childhood. Namely that my Keeper would choose to stay silent all the days except that he has need to speak."

He gave a rare laugh, and she swelled with pride. She'd never been in line to be his First, or even the Second. Lavellan had too many mages, and she'd been sent to the Conclave to alleviate a burden that was never openly acknowledged. Nevertheless, he'd taught her as carefully as the others, and she was grateful to him for his generosity. She'd met other Dalish mages who hadn't been so lucky.

True to his nature, he went straight to the point. "You've abandoned Sylaise."

Her fingers flew to her eyes, where the vallaslin had been. She'd only worn it for five years, but she could trace the memory of their lines as if she'd been born branded. She forced herself to lower her hand and find calm. "No. I follow her path always. I heal the world in her name. But I have a new mark to remind me of my duties now." Sparks rose off of the anchor at her gentle nudge.

"So the new replaces the old so easily?"

Ellana thought again of telling him what she'd learned, that the marks were slavers marks instead of holy writ, but she didn't know the words and truthfully she didn't want them to know. If they didn't believe her, she'd only cause turmoil. If they did, they'd lose one more thing to believe in. Where was the harm in keeping them innocent? She certainly wished she'd never learned the truth.

As if on cue, the always-ready image of a violet gaze on her empty, hateful face rose behind her eyes. She pushed it away with force. Let her people stay clean.

"It's not replacement. It's just different. I'm different now, Keeper, and that will always be true. But my path is no less honorable for all that. No less Dalish."

He nodded. "I agree. But it's good to hear you speak so plainly. Forgive me, but you've seemed lost since you arrived. I had to be sure you understood yourself."

She looked at him, surprised. "I've always understood myself."

Before he could answer, a whoop came from behind the tent, and her younger sister skidded around the side.

Ellana heaved a sigh. Nuriel was no quieter now than she'd been as a small child, even though she was just past the cusp of adulthood. Sometimes Ellana had wondered that such a child had been born into her controlled family at all. She'd spent several afternoons playing with her little sister's pointed ears, convinced she was human and they were sculpted, but they'd remained stubbornly elven. And any hope she was a foundling soon to be claimed by her true parents had been dashed when Nuriel grew old enough for braids. In spite of their opposing personalities, they looked like twins born ten years apart.

And as Nuriel jumped through the air to tackle her in a hug, she couldn't stop a smile. She was impossible not to love. "Be careful, little bird. One day I'll put up a barrier that will bounce you right off."

Nuriel rolled and stood in a one fluid motion. "You never would. Not to your most adorable sister," she said, grinning, then spun to the Keeper. "It's the day, isn't it? He's coming!"

When the Keeper nodded the younger girl whooped again. Ellana sat up and covered her ears playfully. "Who's coming? I hope it's someone hard of hearing or they'll be deaf by the time you're done with them."

Her sister twirled in a circle. "The mysterious stranger. He's so handsome!" She danced away, humming a court song she must have picked up from traveling humans. Ellana stared at the Keeper, bemused.

"A stranger once, but now a friend, has visited the Clan these past several months. He brings us aid, news, or warnings when they're needed. He's very punctual, unlike my former students."

"Well it seems he's captured a wife for his Clan, if that was his intention," she said, laughing.

"There were some who wondered," said the Keeper. "But he's never mentioned it if so. He never mentions much of anything beyond what is needed and keeps himself close, but he's done us no harm so we will do him none."

"As Sylaise wills so we follow," she said absently, traditionally, but she didn't mean it. She stood with a worry in her stomach she couldn't name. Strangers in her family's home, with no explanation. Maybe Leliana would be able to help set her mind at ease if she could get enough to go on. "Does he seem to want information? About the Inquisition, or me?"

The Keeper looked up at her. "No, never. He seems ignorant of the Lavellan who's been raised so highly in the world. But I was hoping you would stay to meet him. You have seen much of the world, child, and can perhaps bring wisdom where we have none." He smiled. "Besides, he too keeps face bare, on a path that may also be different but honorable."

Then her stomach was no longer worried, but terrified. She twisted underneath the fear, looking for escape, but time seemed to slow as Nuriel called, "He's here!" Her sister's hand waved in welcome, trailing eagerness in the air as a counterpoint to Ellana's own nausea. She tried to stop herself, but her head followed where her sister's eyes led.

Of course it was Solas.

* * *

Solas stopped short, a smile of greeting dying on his lips. He stood as still as a halla scenting danger in the trees, and his heart ached a little at the loss of his assuredness in this camp. Clan Lavellan had become a place he felt comfortable, as comfortable as he ever felt with the Dalish. He liked their gentle curiosity about the world, their quiet and introspective natures. Only a few visits had been needed to understand how an Inquisitor with so much wisdom had risen to save them. The Dalish were always wrong in how they lived, but they were more right in who they were than he'd believed.

But now comfort was gone, lost in the gaze of a woman he'd forgotten. Of course, the Inquisitor covered Thedas, and could never truly be left behind by anyone with an interest in it, but Ellana had become a distant memory. Only out of obligation for his mistakes had he come to her family, to help them. The Inquisition could no longer desire his help, nor could he give them anything they needed, but a small clan in a woods was always in need. He gave them small kindnesses to pay for all, far away from Skyhold and the life that no longer fit. Far away from her.

He cursed his inescapable nature. Lying to himself, even now, when every line of him knew the truth. Hadn't he come here, month after month, for this? To see her again, watch the curve of her lips as she spoke, to feel her spirit strong and alive in the world? To manifest the dreams he couldn't stop himself from conjuring? Solitude had changed him more than he'd believed possible. But he'd only meant to see from afar, unnoticed and unobserved. This was too much. The temptation was too strong, and he wasn't prepared.

He wished it was full dark now, where the moon would put silver lights in her hair, and he could melt away like a dream she would barely remember. Instead they stared across the bright camp at each other, and he felt the current between them rising and falling, in time with the rise and fall of her breathing. He rejoiced fiercely in the bareness of her face. She was still free. And beautiful beyond compare.

_Ellana_ , he whispered in his mind, and as though it was the key to a spell they'd been weaving, she moved.

Her stride was predatory, but he couldn't bring himself to even shift on his feet. He tore his eyes from her face and watched the movement of her hips, smooth and mesmerizing. He'd forgotten what it was like to see her lit from inside with so much purpose. She was formidable. Indomitable. Real. He wanted, then, a blazing want that engulfed him. He wanted his hands on those hips, fingers exploring their sharp curves and relearning everything they'd lost. His mind raced. Would she accept him again? How could he make a beginning? How would they ever make an end?

Desire caught him so strongly that he was blindsided by the resounding slap she gave him across the face. Her amber eyes were fire as the echoes died away in the sudden silence of the camp.

She turned and left without a word. He felt heat on his cheeks, not all from the force of her hand, and he was more grateful than she would know for the clear reminder of what he was. Harellan. Traitor. This wasn't his home. He had none, and certainly not with her.


	2. Family

The grace of the Clan showed itself again in their reaction to his embarrassment. One by one they went back to their tasks, as though such an occurrence was commonplace in their lives. The Keeper beckoned, like he'd never stopped walking, and Solas tried to retain a measure of his usually steady demeanor as he complied. Even Nuriel, the sister who was every inch the Inquisitor until she opened her mouth to reveal an innocence and jarring energy Ellana would never have, was politely solemn as he approached. He rubbed his hands across his tunic and wondered what might have been broken between him and these people he'd started to respect.

The old elf on the ground opened with the same question he always did, the one that Solas never answered. "Will you tell us your name, stranger?" His eyes sparkled very slightly as he added, "It seems inevitable we'll learn it now."

He gave in as gracefully as he could. "Solas." When neither elf spoke, he continued, "I have no clan."

"Solas," said the Keeper. "Too much confidence. An unusual trait to carry. But then, you're an unusual man. Dare I say unique. I've never seen my former student lose her temper so demonstratively before. Except with Nuriel."

The girl grinned, and Solas relaxed a little. It was obvious they would stand against him, if necessary, but it was also clear they didn't see it as necessary. _Yet_ , he reminded himself. "I worked with the Inquisition for a time, lending what knowledge and expertise I had to the cause. There came a point when I could no longer be useful, and I removed myself from its service." He cleared his throat. "I did not perhaps do it as formally as I could have."

"So you now float in and out of Dalish camps, performing favors without hope of repayment?"

"It seemed a way to atone for my absence. The Inquisitor once challenged me to help my people, and she worried about you frequently while she was away. Repayment was never necessary for my service." A set of truths, as all good lies were. Never mind that this was the only Clan he visited. Never mind that he no more thought of them as his people than he thought of the dwarves as his people. Never mind that he was trying to repay a debt that he'd sworn no one would ever learn of.

"Very noble of you," said the Keeper, and surely it was only his imagination that provided the note of laughter in his voice. "Nuriel, please leave Master Solas and I to our discussions."

The young girl didn't protest, but she did ask her own question that never failed to appear. "Will you take dinner with my family tonight? We have enough to feed an extra mouth."

"I will consider it," he replied, as he always did.

He lowered himself to the ground as she walked away and braced himself for more questions from this Keeper who saw more than he let on. But the man surprised him by only asking mildly for what he'd brought to share with Lavellan. Solas's gratitude was complete, and he shared the news of both this world and the Fade which would be of use. He also warned him of a group of bandits operating in the area to the south, suggesting that the hunters take care and only travel in pairs when they wandered. He'd already passed the message along to the human ruler in the area, but it was always wise to be cautious.

Solas knew all too well how wise he'd never been.

He also traded his usual healing medicines for various Clan supplies. While the Dalish were good at gathering herbs, they were less skilled at turning them in to medicines that were as useful as they could be, and Lavellan welcomed his intercession with the humans. He always knew if they were trying to cheat him, and the few who'd taken the opportunity to try to kill elves with tainted medicine rarely made it to the next sunrise.

Solas looked in the satchel the Keeper provided and said with some surprise, "No food?" He grimaced. "My apologies, I meant no offense." After all, who knew how scarce it might be for them, and he certainly could find his own.

"None taken. But I thought you might stay longer this visit. The roads you wander are dangerous, as you say. You can stay with me. I would be interested to learn the unfamiliar magic you use. You could take meals with us in payment."

Solas narrowed his eyes. "It's not in my nature to stay, Keeper."

The elder closed his eyes. "A strange thing, nature. People speak of it in themselves as though it's fixed and unchanging. Nature is never so. Lavellan has rested in this clearing a half a dozen times since my first memories. We never once returned to find it the same. And simply because something is new doesn't mean we are incapable of embracing it. Experience and nature are two different things." He chuckled. "Ellana tells us that there is a place in the world where the trees grow together like canopies overhead and drip water from their branches without ceasing. The elves who live there must not know what the sound of a dry twig crackling underfoot is, but that does not mean that walking in the woods is not in their nature."

"I might not be welcome."

"You are always welcome in this place, friend of Lavellan." The Keeper opened his eyes again and fixed Solas with a gaze no less powerful for its kindness. "Do you think I don't know you? Ellana is not such a poor correspondent as all that. She spoke of her companions, her protectors, often. To soothe us, she mentioned elf-kind whenever she could."

The man stretched out his finger and sent a jolt of healing magic into Solas's cheek. "Solas was the mage who saved her life. Saved us all, if the stories are to be believed. Two years ago she stopped mentioning your name. I feared you had died, and we'd never be able to repay the debt we owed. Now our debt is even greater. Don't allow your pride to thwart our obligations."

Solas laughed harshly. "She saved herself. And stories are just perversions of truth preserved in words. Any debt you owed me has long since been settled."

The Keeper shrugged. "At least consider the offer of dinner. Nuriel's mother is the best hunter we have, and her plates are always full. And her daughters provide excellent conversation for both visitors and friends."

Solas's mind stuttered. He hadn't thought about who else might be at that gathering. To sit with her for an evening, even in silence. To let the feeling of her build inside of him again, for just one night, before he left again for good. The temptation was great, too great to resist, even by a man with a cheek that still tingled from the healing working through it.

He was just about to acknowledge his interest when suspicion bloomed. He stood abruptly. "You told me last time we spoke that you were expecting an important visitor to Lavellan, but the day you gave was tomorrow." And that was why he'd come today. "Was the Inquisitor merely early?"

"Certainly not. She's never been early, our Ellana, but she isn't an important visitor. She's family. However, tomorrow I am expecting the local guard captain to stop in and talk to me about coordinating our people's defenses. She is very important indeed."

When Solas walked away to look for Nuriel, to accept her invitation, this time he was sure the laughter he'd heard in the man's voice was real.

* * *

Ellana wanted to crawl into the fire pit and die. She eyed the roasting ram a little enviously. _At least he's past awkward dinners with his exes._ If rams even had exes. If Solas was her ex. They never really gone far enough in to ex out of anything.

She let that train of thought spiral inward more and more incoherently, filling up her mind to block out the nightmare that was happening around her. Solas, talking easily and naturally with her parents as if he'd known them his entire life. Nuriel's smitten face as she hung on every word. Her brother Falon and his lover smiling at the stories he told of the so-called inner circle of the Inquisition. And her, the only uncomfortable one in the group, with her familiar home unraveling underneath her into strangeness.

She would definitely trade places with the ram in a heartbeat.

A burst of laughter pulled her away from her thoughts, and she looked up. Her mother's shoulders were shaking. "Ellana, you never told us that the Inquisition had so many colorful characters in it. The way you speak it always seemed so grim."

Irritation flooded through her. Her usually calm demeanor seemed to have taken a journey this evening. Probably as far away as Tevinter, by the feel of it. "Saving the world wasn't a life of humor, as I recall."

Solas's eyes were infuriatingly calm. "It had its moments. Not that I enjoyed them as I should have at the time. I regret I didn't take full advantage of the friendships that were so valuable."

_Oh really_ , she thought, gritting her teeth. She covered it with a shrug. "I guess I'm just not that good at telling stories."

Nuriel leaned forward. "Solas, what's my sister like at Skyhold? It's hard to imagine her bossing people around. People who aren't me, anyway."

"Your sister is a very capable leader."

"Pah, that's not what I mean. I mean what is she like, as a person. She's always so serious and thoughtful here, but the humans always talk about her like she's a flaming, inspiring symbol. That would take fire, and passion, and all sorts of stuff." She waved her hands through the air. "That's more than just capable."

Ellana steadfastly refused to look at him, even though his eyes on her skin were like a brand. "You would be surprised, I think, to see her in the world. She possesses all of the qualities you describe, and more."

Blood threatened to rise to her cheeks. Yes, he knew about her passion. He'd never even taken an article of her clothing off, never touched a strip of skin that the world couldn't see, and still she'd practically thrown herself into his touch at every opportunity. All of those stolen moments with him, his lips on hers, his hands caressing every part of her body until she was breathless with wanting. They'd traded power back and forth like a dance, aggressive and submissive in turns, but every time it ended the same. She would remain, trembling and shaking with need, and he would walk away as calmly as if they'd merely shared a brief, chaste kiss.

Once she'd thought he was afraid, keeping control because of something that haunted him. She'd assumed it would end, eventually, if she loved him well enough. Now she knew it had all been a game, a way to amuse himself. He got what he wanted out of her, just as he got what he wanted out of the Inquisition. And now it was happening again. He was here, laughing at her, showing her that nothing about her was safe from him. And he was right. Even across the fire now, while she hated him, she still couldn't get away from the memories of her need. She knew that if he asked, she'd give herself to him before he could finish the question, and that was the most galling of all.

He'd continued on while she'd been cataloging her weaknesses. "You've raised an extraordinary woman. Very few could have done as she has. You should be proud."

Her father grinned and said that they were, but Ellana broke in. "I'm only as strong as my companions. Their loyalty and service is what allows me to be extraordinary. Of course, not all companions can be trusted to provide these things." She wanted to see him break, to feel even a little discomfort, but his impassivity was constant and smooth. Apparently she was the only one who couldn't keep herself in line.

"Ah, is that what the fight was about earlier?" asked Falon. When their parents looked at them, he said calmly, "There was a bit of a scrap between them at the Keeper's tent."

"Hardly between. It was very one-sided. She belted him pretty good, though," said Nuriel, giggling.

"Ellana, is this true?" demanded her father. Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Solas. "I apologize sincerely for the inhospitality of this child of Lavellan, Master Solas."

Ellana looked at the ground, ashamed and angry. She jumped as her mother took her hand gently, and she met her eyes and saw they understood far too much. Her throat clenched. She didn't want to cry here.

Solas spoke without malice. "It was nothing I didn't deserve. I dishonored the Inquisition, and through it the Inquisitor. It was her right to judge me." His expression lightened. "Besides, had she truly wished to hurt me, her fire spells would have been much more effective."

"I don't use my magic that way," she said, crossing her arms.

He laughed softly. "But you could have."

"Well, I can't say I approve of this style of judgment," said her father. "Is this the sort of thing that human Commander is teaching you?"

"Cullen is much more bark than bite," she said. "He'll yell at his recruits, at first, but most of the time he ends up as their best friend instead of their punisher. Thank goodness his second-in-command has more disciplinarian in her. He's almost too gentle to command, but I'm lucky to have him."

And then, to her surprise, she got the break in Solas's calm mask she'd been looking for. His eyes narrowed. "How is the Commander? Still attentive to all of the Inquisition's needs?"

_He's jealous_ , she realized. _He thinks someone else has taken his place._ She smiled to herself, both in triumph and at the ridiculous idea that Cullen would ever lust after her, a mage who could barely hold a sword the right way around. "Yes, he's doing a fine job. Fortunately his duties keep him in Skyhold much of the time, so I never have to worry about losing his services. He was sorry not to make this trip, but sometimes separation is inevitable."

Solas's eyes darkened. _Oh Cullen, forgive me for what I do to your good_ _name._  She paused. _And Cassandra, please don't dent my head with your shield._

Her mother spoke up. "But he didn't send any guards with you. Isn't that a bit of a misstep for a military commander? Our hunters never let the Keepers travel unprotected."

"You traveled here on your own?" asked Solas, leaning forward. Disapproval was clear in his voice, and she bristled.

"I'm quite capable of handling myself."

"You represent more than yourself, Inquisitor."

"Not when I'm among my family, mage!"

"You don't get to abandon your role when it suits your whims. It's irresponsible and beneath you."

"I hardly think you're one to talk of abandonment."

Nuriel watched them argue with wide eyes and a grin on her face. "You're right, she does have fire. Who would have thought my sweet sister had it in her? I'm glad you came to dinner, Solas. I'm learning a lot."

Solas smiled then, but the look in his violet eyes was not quite nice. "As am I. Thank you for the invitation. In fact, the Keeper offered to shelter me for a time here in the camp, so perhaps I can return the kindness before I go."

Her family all agreed much too quickly. She didn't know whether she wanted to scream or punch him, but it was certainly one of the two. How dare he invade her life this way? She was no child, and he was not her companion. Not anymore.

A dark thread inside of her, one that noticed the muscles outlined by his leggings and the way his strong fingers curled into the grass underneath them, offered a third path to release her frustrations. That traitor voice whispered other kindnesses he could give her while he was near, pleasures that she hadn't had with anyone in so long. Goosebumps rose on her skin even as her mind raged, and the tension inside of her was a string begging to snap.

Solas didn't look at her again as he launched back in to more stories of the Inquisition, but his face held a self-satisfied smirk that shook her out of her haze. She would master this craving, and he would leave her. To get past him yet again. Ellana excused herself and walked into the tent to check on her niece while they talked around the fire without her.


	3. Safety

She dreamed. It happened more and more frequently now, whether because the anchor weakened the Veil around her enough to draw spirits, her magic had grown to the point where she had no choice, or her mind was so open and lost she didn't know. It was the sort of thing she would have asked Solas, had Solas been available to ask.

Been worthy of asking.

Fortunately the one thing he had done for her, when he'd realized the clarity of her dreaming long ago, was to teach her how to defend herself from the spirits that wanted her beyond measure. All mages were in danger in the Fade, more than those without the talent for magic, but her danger was magnified a hundred-fold because of the power sparking in her hand. Painstakingly he'd worked, night after night, first setting up thick layers of his own protections around her, then stripping away more and more as time went on. Instead of feeling more vulnerable at their loss, she'd felt stronger, and when she was at last standing alone and strong, his pride in her had been intoxicating.

But it couldn't stop them all. She drifted now, Solas's mouth on hers, aggressive and feral. His hands slid down her back to cup her and pull her to him, and she responded to the pressure of his hardness with a moan. Breath came hot and fast in her ear as he whispered ancient, lost words she didn't know. She could do nothing but hold on as he ground himself against her and made her desperate with need.

His fingers worked their way under the band of her leggings, and at that she pushed away and took a long step back. Solas looked at her quizzically, but it wasn't Solas at all, of course. The desire demons who wore his face always went too far, reminded her what the true version of him would never do. "Go away," she said in a hoarse voice.

"But you don't want me to leave," said the demon coyly. It didn't approach, only smiled. It was the same smirk she'd seen across the fire so recently, and it made her burn, but not in the way the demon wanted.

"I do," she said. "Go." Her will spiraled out of her with the focused control she'd learned so carefully, and the demon blew away into nothingness. A horrible grief filled her, and she begged the dreams to give her joy, any joy.

As if in response the landscape around her shifted to the training courtyard of Skyhold. Cassandra and Varric argued in the corner, scowling and smiling respectively, and she relaxed. Spirits of duty and curiosity, she recognized, and they were young spirits, as spirits went. They wouldn't try to hurt her. Iron Bull walked next to her as a spirit of determination, telling her a dirty joke that she'd heard him tell a hundred times before, and she laughed before the punchline. The noise of the keep was a soothing wind over the heat of her anxiety. Her heart expanded, lightened. She was so happy to be home.

_Wait,_ she thought, _aren't you home already?_

But there was no time to think about it, because Varric was asking her to support him in whatever he was saying to the Seeker, and she had to focus to understand his words. It took time but she settled into the rhythm of their common speech. They were arguing about the tavern's ale and whether or not it was drinkable swill or undrinkable swill.

"What if it's actually good?" she asked, but they both dismissed that line. She put her hand on her chin and pretended to think. "Since it's technically capable of being drunk, that makes it drinkable by definition, right?"

Varric crowed in triumph while Cassandra protested at the use of technicalities. Varric turned back to Ellana. "I think the Seeker should drink it, don't you?" His voice had lowered, and she frowned at the sudden urgency in it.

Cassandra stepped back, shaking her head violently, and Ellana wanted to ask why she was so afraid of ale. She looked around, and her heart dropped. The yard was full of red lyrium, growing out of the walls and the people around her. Iron Bull held a vial of the stuff in his hands, as did Varric, and their faces were full of the song that never ended. She heard it in her own ears, beautiful and searching, with only a whisper of the sacrifice it demanded of the ones who embraced it.

Ellana had always known she was weak. Her strength was a pose, her stoicism an illusion, and she wanted nothing more than to fall into something that would take away the need to choose. To be consumed by something larger than herself. The red lyrium found her easy prey.

She moved to Cassandra's side and set a barrier between them and the infection, but it wouldn't be enough. Her wards were strong but didn't block sight. She watched as the safety of the keep fell around her, overtaken by the red music. There was nowhere left for her to run, no one to trust, and she and Cassandra would die.

As soon as she thought it, a deep voice rumbled around them. It was the Nightmare she'd killed so long ago but never stopped carrying in her heart.

"Look at me," it commanded, and there was no choice but obedience. Her eyes rose to the pathway that ran over the medical tents, and her breath stopped. It walked out of the room where the mosiacs lived, swirling with the same vibrant colors she closed her eyes against every day. Only it wasn't a nightmare now, it was real, and it had finally come to kill her.

"Kill you?" it asked, amused. "No. Join me, child. Your power is too great to lose. And the song is what you want, isn't it?"

Melody rose around her again, stronger and louder, and oh did she want it running through her blood so it could never be away. She bit her lip and shook her head with effort, trying to dislodge the sound, but there was no escape from its pressure. Cassandra, form wavering as the spirit tried to help, held her arm, pouring strength into her. It eased, just a little. Enough.

To her horror, the voice changed, became Solas's. "Give in, my heart. You need me. It can be different. I won't go." So tempting to believe the words, fall into the musical cadence he used so effectively.

"Liar," she whispered, trying to break the spell.

"Not a lie. Trust. Believe." Persuasive, gentle. Was he visiting her dreams again, now that they were so physically close? Could she believe him? She looked up again to the figure cloaked in a riot of color. It wore Solas's familiar smirk on its face, and she closed her eyes. This demon had learned much of using feelings as weapons, it seemed. Fortunately not enough.

"I'll never trust you," she said, and she didn't know if she spoke to the demon or the man. Ellana focused, and the world around her exploded with enough force to rock the Fade. The anchor tore a small hole next to her as the fabric of dreams weakened, and she closed it quickly. She sank to her knees until the vibrations stopped. A figure appeared next to her, but she was too tired to care what came next.

"Ellana," said Cullen's voice, and at that she did look up. He glowed a faint blue with the power of the lyrium running through him. He wasn't taking it in reality, she knew, but in here the glow meant only one thing, and she sobbed in relief. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," she said. "Take it away."

He knelt across from her and placed a hand on either shoulder. His face was close to hers, terribly sad but focused, and she begged him to be quick. In a rough voice he spoke the words she'd heard so many times before under the cloak of the Fade, the Chant that would bring Tranquility to her mind. An end to the sadness, to the dreams, to the song of the lyrium that followed her everywhere. This was what she wanted. This was what she needed. As his voice washed over her endlessly, she felt a satisfaction that she hadn't felt since the Conclave. At last there was joy.

She slid out of the dreams, knowing she was cut off from them forever, and she woke up under the stars with tears drying on her face. Her emotions were still there, bundled so deeply in her heart that they seared every part of her.

There was no relief, and she would sleep no more tonight.

* * *

Solas was in the center clearing when she arrived for breakfast, though in fairness nearly everyone was. It was always served for the whole Clan, and it was also a place where they touched base with each other before scattering to their daily tasks. Dinners were for close groups, but breakfast was for all.

She didn't want to see her family this morning, whose eyes would see too much, so she found a knot of girls her age. She'd grown up with them, and they were as close to friends as she'd been able to form as the extra mage in a Clan who would one day need to shed her. Even more importantly, they were as far away from her former rift expert as she could get.

Ellana made her way over to them after she grabbed the little food she could stomach. They welcomed her with a level of enthusiasm that surprised her. Soon she was relaxing into their normal conversation, the inconsequential chatter she rarely heard in her position of power. They talked of the best hunting spots, the best hunters, the men and women they loved and hated, the gentle gossip that always circulated through any community. She had nothing to add, but they didn't seem to mind and entertained her graciously.

The conversation only faltered when a shadow fell over the group. "Inquisitor," said Solas. The women around her stiffened into formality.

"Ellana. Please." She didn't look at him, but she begged him with her voice not to take this away from her, too.

There was a long pause. "Ellana. The Keeper asked that you visit him this morning. He wishes to learn more about the Rift magic you possess, and the Fade magic I know well. Shall I tell him you'll come?"

She closed her fist against the mark but nodded silently.

"Excellent. I'll do so." The shadow didn't move. "Were you gifted with gentle dreams?"

A flush spread over her, cheeks to neck to chest, hopefully hidden from the man behind her by the thick curtain of her hair. Had he watched her? Had any of it been him? "I don't remember."

"Ah. Well, let's hope you were." At last, mercifully, he left, and a series of giggles echoed around the circle. The women peppered her with questions about him, and she spent the rest of her minimal meal uncomfortable and angry, inventing any and all lies that would slow the rumors that were sure to spread like wildfire. It was bad enough her dreams were trying to get her into his bedroll without her Clan doing the same.

* * *

Solas walked back to the Keeper's tent thoroughly disgusted with himself. He'd meant only to give her the message, as he'd been bidden. Just as he'd meant to leave yesterday. Just as he'd meant to visit Lavellan only once. Just as he'd meant to live the rest of his mistake of a life alone. Just as he'd meant to leave his attraction to her unexplored, so very long ago in Skyhold.

Ellana had a way of upsetting his intentions.

He certainly hadn't meant to ask her about her dreams. She'd made it clear, beyond any doubt, that while she felt his betrayal as the Inquisitor she felt nothing for him as a woman, except possibly contempt. Every gesture, every word, only confirmed what he'd already known would be true. She'd taken another lover. She'd moved on from his fumbling, reluctant advances to what she really needed. He should have known it would be the Commander. Supportive, steady, reliable.

_Boring,_ he snarled to himself, ashamed of the jealousy that choked him.

To watch anyone's journeys in the Fade was a violation. To watch someone who wanted him far away from her life was beyond violation, and his only comfort was that he truly hadn't intended to. He'd been walking the Fade, speaking to the spirits he found and looking for peace after the dinner that had left him far more unsettled than he cared to admit, when the ephemeral ground beneath him bucked and shivered and the spirits changed in front of his eyes. Each one flickered into darker, hungrier versions of themselves as living pain crested through their world. He knew who had to be the source. Only one person had the power.

The epicenter of the blast was easy to find. The Fade grew emptier, thinner, as he spun his mind toward it, and she was there, kneeling silently on the ground with no sign of what had driven her to expel so much energy. No sign but one, an echo of a voice. Her voice.

_I'll never trust you._

He reacted to the pain in the words without thinking, trying to move towards her without tearing the delicate skin of the Veil under his feet, when he saw the spirit shaped like Cullen and froze.

The heavy feelings in the air subsided when she noticed the figure, and the walls of the Fade strengthened as the human knelt in front of her and spoke soft words that Solas couldn't hear. His hands were on her, and his face was touched with love.

Solas turned away before he saw the inevitable conclusion of her vision. He knew how vividly she dreamed. With a little effort, he'd been in a different part of the Fade before she even knew he was there.

He'd woken that morning in foul temper, the memory close to his mind. He hated how she'd relaxed into Cullen, accepting and comforted, with none of the uncontrolled passion she'd always shown with him. It had been vulnerable. Intimate. Real.

Even before he'd broken her trust so completely, what she'd felt for him had obviously never been a tenth of what she could give to a man. Why should it have been? He certainly wasn't worthy of it. She wanted gentle love and devotion, not hunger and wary desire. Hunger was all he knew how to carry after his long, solitary life.

He would have left immediately but for two things. One, he'd promised the Keeper he would stay for a true visit, and one night likely didn't qualify. Two, the Inquisitor was unprotected, and he may no longer be of their number but he still had a duty to the cause. Those were the only truths. Solas repeated it to himself as he went to the morning meal and steadfastly ignored the part of him that mocked his smooth liar's mind.

Once there, others of the Clan sat with him politely, asking him little but speaking enough to make him welcome. He sank into their hospitality and dreaded Ellana's appearance. He needn't have worried. Once she'd come, she'd ignored him completely, sitting happily with a large group across the clearing. Trying not to be obvious, he'd searched her face, looking for any signs of the anguish that had caused her to disrupt the Fade, but there'd been nothing to see. The dream of Cullen must have been even more healing than he'd suspected. His mind chewed on that thought while the food in his mouth turned to ashes, until he could eat no more.

And when he went to deliver a simple message and seen the curve of her spine under her tunic, the way her hair fell across her neck, her lips pressing gently against the cup in her hands, he'd lost control again. Had the spirit Cullen wound his hands through her dark locks, holding her in place as it kissed her? Had it learned the place on her neck where she most liked to be touched? Had the man himself experienced these things, the way she shivered when she wanted, in her room in Skyhold?

He didn't know. He didn't want to know. He couldn't stop imagining it. She barely cared he was there, and he was burning for her too brightly to stop. He'd had to ask about the dream, even as he realized she would never answer in front of so many. If she would at all.

Now he paid for his impetuousness with the knowledge that she certainly knew of his intrusion into her mind. When he handed the food he'd brought to the Keeper, the mage greeted him silently with a face that seemed to know as well. Solas couldn't meet the eyes of this man who'd offered so much trust to someone like him. A being who would never stop betraying it.


	4. Companionship

Ellana didn't join them until a time that only the most charitable could call morning. She ran through the forest as swiftly as she ran through the halls of Skyhold, though Solas imagined trees were easier to dodge than people. Her cheeks were colored, and a slight sheen of sweat graced her brow. When she lifted the hem of her shirt to wipe her forehead, he couldn't stop his eyes from tracing over the newly bared skin.

_Stop it,_ he told himself. He forced himself to look at his hands. She didn't notice.

"I was hunting with my mother," she said by way of greeting.

"I see. No apology for our guest?" asked the Keeper.

He started to protest that none was needed when she surprised him with a grin. "My Keeper always said that apologies were the surest way to take blame no one was giving. And he was the wisest man I've ever known." She dropped the satchel she carried onto the ground. "Rather than an apology, I brought a gift. Fresh meat, skinned and ready to cook, along with some bread my mother offered. Clean shots, no extra blood."

The Keeper inclined his head in approval, and Solas leaned forward. "You know how to use a bow?"

She spoke over her shoulder as she gathered kindling for a fire. "No child of my mother's was allowed not to, magic or no. My sister favors the dagger, but we can all shoot. Not very well, in my case. So before you ask why I never told anyone in Skyhold, the reason is in that bag. My mother made every kill. I mostly hunted leaves and a few innocent patches of dirt."

He laughed. She turned back with an armful of branches and dumped them inelegantly in a heap. Her fingers sent a casual burst of flame into their center before she turned around for larger pieces of wood. The Keeper hissed lightly, and she waved her hand at him. "This is faster."

"And what do we need speed for, here in these woods? The Dalish don't rush, child."

She didn't answer. When she returned with the wood she needed, as well as the long sticks for skewers, she handed the food around and plopped on the ground. Her voice was brittle as she picked up the thread of conversation again. "Perhaps the Dalish aren't always right."

Solas glanced at her sharply, but she seemed to be following her own internal roads. The Keeper nodded. "Perhaps. And while we are one People, we do not all follow the same stars. Still, it need not be a choice, Dalish or none."

At the last, the Keeper's eyes flickered to Solas, and he curled his lip at the barely hidden message. The man was sworn to Mythal, almost certainly the reason he felt any comfort at all around him, and Mythal had never minced words either. The Keeper looked back to Ellana and said in a more normal voice, "Will you sing a prayer to please an old man?"

She pulled a face but nodded. Solas guiltily dropped the bread he'd been raising to his mouth. Of course they would pray. The prayers in the night and the morning meals had been silent, personal, and he'd used the time to empty his mind and search for calm within. He knew better than to send wishes out into the Void like so many ravens. The messages would never be read. But he'd never paid much attention to Dalish rituals, and a public prayer was more than he knew how to perform. Would they expect him to join? Surely Ellana, at least, would realize he couldn't.

Nothing to be done but wait and watch. He had to admit he was curious to see what she would do now that she knew the truth of her gods. They'd never really discussed her faith. Even before the night he'd taken away her markings, it had only made them angry and sad in turns to discuss anything about her people. Her gods would have been even worse, like as not. The Herald of Andraste hadn't been allowed to show signs of following an alien religion, so there'd never been a reason for him to start the argument. It startled him to realize he didn't know what she'd even believed before.

A question for another time. For now he sat motionless as she launched into a simple tune with simple words. It was a childish song about gratitude, clearly traditional but not ceremonial, and he relaxed a little. This was no ritual and held no deep meaning, and he'd never been one to begrudge general thankfulness. Besides, it wasn't unpleasant to sit in the forest and listen to her sing.

When she finished, he opened his mouth to compliment her voice, but her eyes stayed closed. He stilled his tongue immediately and stiffened as words poured out of her. "Creators, gods young and old, watch and care for Lavellan in the times you've sent. We thank you for the sky over us, the land under us, the air that sustains us, and the water that cleanses us before your sight. May our troubles be lightened and our joys be deepened by the workings of your hands. Protect us against the Wolf in the night who seeks to turn us away from the path you lay in front of us. Sylaise and Mythal be honored by the duties we undertake in their name. This is our prayer."

She opened her eyes and gave him a skittish look, clearly worried that he would disapprove of so much religion. She needn't be. He was too stunned to disapprove. Her words had been so earnest, her belief so sincere, and he could have kicked himself for his foolishness. He'd taken away the physical marks on her face, thinking that was all there was to it. As though her faith lived on her face instead of in her heart. He hadn't explained anything at all about the gods themselves and their complete lack of decency, let alone divinity.

_Prideful and arrogant as always, Solas_. Of course the marks on her soul were deeper, more heartfelt than some silly facial tattoos. She'd lost the outward shackles but was bound as tightly as ever.

As for her exhortations against the Wolf, they bothered him less than his former enemies would have thought possible. In those she may have a point. If only she'd prayed harder years ago to keep him away from the world. From her.

Ellana studied him, and he wondered what she saw on his face. "I'm sorry I couldn't mention your own god, but I didn't know…" she said, trailing off.

"The Creators would understand and honor your intentions," he said. Oh, how the lie cost him, but he couldn't bring himself to take away from the sweet sincerity of her prayer. He'd never expected something so ugly to be made so beautiful. The small smile she gifted to him was almost enough to soothe the ache of his heart.

* * *

They spent the afternoon discussing magic, and Ellana started to believe that maybe this wouldn't be the worst day she'd spent since she dropped a mountain on her own head. It was easier to keep her wandering mind focused when she was using it to try to describe the feelings of the mark in her hand or the way the rifts in the Veil both feared and craved her. Much of what she said she'd never tried to vocalize to anyone, not even in the Inquisition, but the challenge was exactly what she needed today. As she talked, it was like old times in the rotunda, debating and theorizing about her abilities and their origin. She could almost forget that Solas had certainly known more than he'd ever shared with her about both.

Neither man understood how a hole in reality could have a personality and she had little success explaining it, but she knew it was true. Some rifts were curious, others terrified, and even more were angry. Solas theorized that the types of demons that came through it changed it somehow, or the flavors of the piece of Fade it revealed were leaking through. She allowed that either might be true, but she was personally convinced that the rifts were living creatures, in their own way. One thing that was real, even after all this time, was that he never dismissed her observations about her powers even when he disagreed, so he shrugged when she suggested it. "If lyrium can live, why not a rift? It may not be a coincidence that Corypheus sought both."

"Does that mean Eluvians are alive? He wanted those, too."

Solas shook his head. "No, I don't believe so. They were created by the ancient elves. I saw the first one created. In the Fade, long ago."

The Keeper leaned forward. "Yes, tell me about these dream walks of yours. I would hear more of the past." Solas began his tales of the Fade, some she'd heard and some new, and she stretched out on the grass next to the remains of the fire and listened to him speak.

With her eyes closed and exhaustion blunting the edges of her consciousness, she could relax into his words. She drifted on the melody of his voice, the sounds blurring into each other and crowding like leaves in a whirlpool. She fell in among them and let its movement carry her where it would. The spiral of her soul brought her visions, almost real enough to touch.

He'd never left. He was here as her friend, and they were dancing through the steps of courtship as easily as they'd danced on the balcony at Halamshiral. They took meals with her family and with her mentor not in awkward half-looks and arguments, but to widen the circle of their love to include her past as well as her present. The woods of her home became a backdrop for the moment when she could melt into him, carrying no fear in her heart.

She was so caught up in the false memories her mind was weaving that her hand stretched out to find him, wanting to thread her fingers through his own. Before she could, a cheerful greeting jerked her awake. She blushed and pulled her hand back but covered the movement by running it through her hair as she sat up. No one was looking at her, and she thanked the Creators for small favors.

Nuriel grinned at them all from behind a tree. She approached at the Keeper's signal, and Ellana saw a human woman following her. The Keeper rose to greet her. Ellana scrambled to follow when she recognized the crests on her armor.

Margot was the captain of the new Duchess's guard after the last Duke had tried, unsuccessfully, to eliminate Lavellan. It had never been confirmed, but she suspected the Venatori had targeted her family specifically, and through them her, in the hopes of distracting her from the war.

Not that it had done them much good.She'd asked Dorian to take a very pointed message back to the Imperium on her behalf, and his dark agreement had done her heart good. But one thing they had taken from her was her willingness to maintain the connection with her home that she'd wanted, in case they tried again. She hadn't dared visit physically, until now. The Venatori had stolen part of her rapidly shrinking life, and if she'd hated them for nothing else, she would have hated them for that.

Josephine's carefully chosen human successor was supportive of the Dalish, allowing them freer travel over the lands. Even if pockets of humans still resented them, the majority were peaceful. Lavellan had never been safer, but a human warrior in the camp still put Ellana on edge, despite the fact she'd been invited.

The Keeper had no such reservations. "Welcome to Lavellan, Captain. I hope your travels were safe."

"Thanks, Keeper. We hit some bandits on the road, but some anonymous elf had warned the Duchess so we were prepared. Ran some of 'em off, ran more of 'em through. The others are still scattered about here and there." She peered at them both. "Wasn't one of yours, was it?"

The Keeper shook his head, and Margot shrugged. "Whoever it was did us all a good turn. But that's not what I came here for."

Nuriel had captured Solas and was talking at him animatedly several yards away. His back was to Ellana which meant her sister's face was fully visible under a shaft of sunlight through the trees. Her heart sank when she saw how lit it was from within as well as without.

Her sister had always been a flirt, prone to fits of obsession about a new man with every letter she wrote, so Ellana had paid little attention to the clear, burgeoning crush on her former companion. She'd had certainly enjoyed her own fantasies of the elves who traveled from other Clans in search of mates, friends, or new paths to follow, and they'd faded into nothing more than gentle memories when they'd left.

Nuriel had stepped into much more dangerous territories with this wanderer who'd overstayed his welcome. She'd make sure it didn't hurt her.

The Keeper's voice brought her back to the conversation at hand. "Yes, of course. You wish us to coordinate. I concur. We can guard better, hunt better, and avoid any conflicts between our peoples. Lavellan desires to live in cooperation with you and yours."

The soldier shifted on her feet. "Right, right. That's true, and I'm hoping to get with your hunters later to hammer that out. Last thing I want is some fool sergeant stumbling across a couple of Dalish and trying to prove his stripes. But the situation has changed, obviously." Ellana knew she looked as blank as her teacher, and the guard shook her head. "The rifts up north? Demons, weird mages, the usual, only no one ever comes back? Doesn't the Inquisition tell you anything? Their leader's related to you, isn't she?"

"But I don't know anything about it!" she protested. She turned crimson as the captain considered, gave a long look at her hand, and then threw her a formal salute. "There's no need for that."

"Of course, Your Grace." Margot loosened only marginally. "The Inquisition sent forces up just last week to try to deal with the situation, at the order of your Commander. We've heard nothing from them. My own boys who investigated are also gone. The Duchess is frantic to go after them, but I won't risk anyone else if we don't know what we're facing. We thought maybe your people had seen something, Keeper. I know they travel beyond our own knowledge."

"I'm afraid not. And we've had none go missing, Creators be praised. I'm sorry to have so little to offer."

"Can't be helped. The Inquisition is sending more people, some of their heavier hitters from what I understand. They'll be here in a few days. Hopefully they can do something." The woman's professional mask cracked and worry seeped through. "And my boys hold out that long."

"There's no need to wait," said Ellana. "I'm here. I'll go find them, or at least scout the area for you. I have experience in these things."

"Out of the question," said Solas beside her, and she jumped in surprise. She hadn't even seen him move. Nuriel's face held disappointment behind him. Yes, she was well on her way to being hurt. Solas continued, "It's far too risky. Your advisors kept you in the dark for a reason, Inquisitor. If they wanted you involved, they would have told you."

"What they want hardly matters. It's my decision." He sighed heavily, and she frowned. She sounded like a whiny child. Her voice deepened into the tones she used when she sat in judgment. "I can't just leave those people out there, Solas. Her people. My people. What if this is only happening because I'm here?"

"Precisely. What if this is a trap, set for the Inquisitor? They've used the perfect bait, if so. Everyone in Thedas knows the one thing that will always tempt you to action is your own people in peril."

"I don't care."

He threw up his hands. "Then we will have to care for you. Heed our counsel. Or must I write to your Commander and ask him to send extra soldiers here to carry you back to Skyhold?"

"So far the only counsel I'm hearing is coming from you. And you don't get a vote anymore." She turned to the Keeper and the captain with a questioning look.

Margot cleared her throat. "You could help, maybe, but I couldn't ask you to risk yourself for a maybe. I won't even let my own people do it."

"Perhaps a compromise," said the Keeper. "Take some of our hunters with you, for protection. They're all skilled at staying out of sight and could provide protection."

She shook her head. "No. It's too dangerous."

Solas snorted. Ellana glared at him. "For them, not me," she said. "I have the mark. I know what demons I can and can't face. I've fought other mages, to kill. The hunters are good at what they do, but this is beyond their experience."

The Keeper snapped his fingers. "Of course, experience is required. Master Solas should accompany you."

He looked back and forth between them when neither replied. Solas's face was irritated, and she knew her own was no happier if it looked anything like how she felt. "Unless you object."

"I object to the entire enterprise, but if she insists on endangering herself I'll certainly keep her from her own foolishness as much as possible," said Solas.

She sighed and crossed her arms. There was no way she'd let him be more mature than she was. "He can come. He'll just leave as soon as anything difficult happens anyway."

The captain looked sorry she'd ever stepped into their part of the forest. "Okay then. I can provide you maps of the routes they were supposed to be taking. As soon as whatever of your forces they sent out arrive, I'll send them up your way. If you give me any orders for them, I'll pass those on as well. I appreciate what you're doing for us, Inquisitor. I realize this isn't why you came."

"Thank me when I find our people, Captain." She spoke to Solas without looking at him. "We'll leave in an hour. Get what you need."

"As you command, Inquisitor," he said with only a hint of sarcasm. The Keeper led him back to the main camp. She noticed vaguely that Nuriel was no longer with them, but her mind was taken up with the things she would need to do. Pack food and medicine. Fortify her magic reserves as best she could. Say goodbye to her family. Write to Leliana and Cullen to let them know what she was doing and give them a piece of her mind that she hadn't already been doing it. And, as always, leave them instructions in case she didn't come back.


	5. Blessings

Luckily her parents were both outside of their tent when she got back. She explained the situation, and they took the news with the same equanimity they took everything. Her father only smiled wryly and made a comment about his important daughter. Her mother was more serious. She followed Ellana inside to help select the things she would carry. While she packed dried food and medicines, she felt her mother's eyes on her. Eventually she turned around with vague irritation. "Is there something wrong?"

The hunter stepped forward and smoothed her hands over Ellana's hair. "I don't like my children to be in danger."

"A part of my life, now, I'm afraid," she answered lightly. "The Inquisitor doesn't get to be safe."

"Not that. Danger of the heart."

Ellana looked away.

"I won't ask," her mother continued. "But I've always known that you, of all my children, would feel things too deeply for me to save you from pain. Falon is the steady hand on the bow, Nuriel the light step across the leaves, and you are the draw of the string, tight and waiting. Take care that you do not stretch yourself too far, little Ana."

She smiled at the endearment and made sure her eyes were clear. "I'll be fine. It was a long time ago. The halla is not tempted by the grass of the prior spring."

Her mother kissed her on the forehead, as she had when she was a child, and then it was hard not to let the tears come. "It's sometimes difficult to know which is the temptation and which is the reward. But you are wise and grown and extraordinary. You will choose well."

"Yes. I learned everything from you."

* * *

When they got to the tent, the Keeper was speaking to the waiting Captain. Solas was nowhere in sight. Of all of the times for him to be late instead of her, he would make it now. This whole journey was going to be an uphill climb, obviously. The one thing she did know was that he was as stubborn as she was when he chose to be.

In most battles of wills at Skyhold, he'd come out the victor. She would outlast him this time.

Her parents had come with her against her half-hearted protests. It likely wasn't dignified to be sent off by waving parents as though it was her first hunt, but she was pathetically grateful for their presence. Despite her bravado, she knew this was a dangerous thing she'd chosen to do. She could easily be lost. _And wouldn't that be peaceful?_ whispered a voice inside of her. She shook her head. This was not a suicide mission.

Ellana made to join the Keeper when she heard voices from the nearby trees. Curious, she stepped closer and saw Solas was here after all, speaking to her sister. She narrowed her eyes, then narrowed them further when she saw her sister was dressed for travel, with a bow slung on her back and daggers at her waist. They seemed to be arguing.

She stepped even closer, making sure they didn't see her.

"I want to go with you," said Nuriel. "I'm good with the daggers. I can help you. Keep you safe."

"I've no doubt you are, child. But this is not a trip to be taken lightly," said Solas. He rubbed his hand across his brow. She couldn't see his face, but she could picture the exasperation on it easily. "This trip into unknown danger is foolish even for your sister. For you it would be madness."

Nuriel smiled. "Worried about me?"

There was a pause. "I would worry about any who would do this. Including myself."

"Don't you want me to come with you?"

Her sister said it with a smiling pout, but Ellana heard the vulnerable tremble in her voice. _Solas, you ass._

"No. Please, child, remain here."

"Fine. If that's what you want. I'll stay here where it's safe." Nuriel spit the last word and turned on her heel. She added, with complete lack of irony, "And I'm not a child!"

Solas sighed as her sister stomped away and turned toward the Keeper's tent. His eyes widened when he saw Ellana advancing toward him, but he didn't try to hide from her wrath. That made her more furious than anything. He knew why she was angry, which meant he knew what he was doing, which meant he'd been doing it to get back at her for attacking him in the camp. Typical of the man.

When she got close enough, she grabbed his arm. "Leave her alone. Don't hurt her, or I'll break every rule I have about how I use my magic. Do you hear me?"

"Ellana - Inquisitor - I had no idea… It was not my intention to cause your sister any distress on my account." Despite the hesitation in his words, his tone was as even and smooth as ever. Her temper only sharpened at his lack of guilt.

"I'm sure. You're always so careful."

He winced, then, and she was satisfied. "Yes. Well, I sent her away," he said. "Is there anything else you would have me do?"

"Just stay away from her."

Solas nodded. His arm shifted underneath her hand and she realized it was the first time she'd touched him since she'd slapped him. He seemed to realize it at the same time and the corners of his mouth turned up just enough to be noticeable. _Idiot_ , she berated herself. She'd given him exactly what he wanted. Proof that he could still influence her actions, have control over her if he pushed the right buttons. She snatched her hand back like it was on fire and walked away.

He trailed silently behind her until they reached the small knot of elves. He said nothing while she took the information Margot provided and listened to her quick briefing on the area they would cover. It was mostly woods, but with a deep ravine from an ancient river which had since dried out. The demons, or Venatori, or Red Templars, or whatever was waiting, were likely hiding in one of its many shadows and caves. Water and game should be plentiful, even for a poor hunter such as herself. There were twenty soldiers missing in total, ten hers and ten the Duchess's, and they had healers among their number. She took the list of their names dutifully and resolved to memorize them as they traveled. It would help keep her goal in mind.

And then everything was done, and it was time to leave. Solas stood off to the side while her parents gave her a last embrace and whispered words of encouragement to her. The Keeper also gave her his blessing for safe travel, and she felt braver as his words settled around her.

He leaned in after he was done and whispered very quietly, "Creators bless you all your days, my beloved child. Sylaise keep you kind in the face of hardships."

She blinked back tears. "And Mythal keep you strong in the face of yours." But when she stepped away, her face was impassive. She was the Inquisitor, now.

"Ready to go?" she asked Solas.

He still said nothing, only nodded. She was grateful and a little shocked at his lack of sarcastic comment. _No doubt saving them up for later._ They started to leave when the Keeper called out. He walked to where they stood and, hesitantly, placed his hand on Solas's face. To her surprise, and certainly to her former companion's, the older mage said the traditional blessing over him as well. Solas flinched, but didn't try to stop him.

"Thank you, teacher," he said afterwards.

"I'm no teacher of yours, friend of Lavellan. But I'm glad you do this for our treasured daughter." The Keeper smiled. "Even lone wolves will sometimes find a pack they can run with."

Something strange ran across Solas's face. "Perhaps." He lifted his hand to wave at her parents, then walked into the woods without her. She waved as well, fiercely, then followed.

* * *

Solas hadn't considered how truly impossible his situation would be until they were a few miles into the undergrowth. He'd accepted the vague command to go with her without hesitation. To leave her alone and unprotected was unthinkable, and his stubborn companion was clearly going to go no matter what anyone said. But the implications of the trip, the fact that he would be alone with her, truly alone, since the night he'd taken that hard step away from what he'd wanted, hadn't sunk in.

He took step after silent step, watching her ahead of him instead of scouting for danger as he should have been doing. She'd passed him almost immediately and never looked back. Part of him wanted to think it was her trust in his skills that kept her moving so confidently. The larger part knew that she simply didn't care if he was keeping up or not.

They walked as the sun set around them, dodging branches and staying off of main pathways wherever they could. While danger was likely not this close, there was no reason to be sloppy. He approved of the choices she took, where to set her feet to leave the least trail, and realized she'd learned much of stealth in the years since he'd left, from someone. Surely not her oafish commander. His forces were only good for smashing down what was in front of them with inelegant force, not the subtle grace she was currently displaying.

He frowned, remembering the gentle, gloved hands that had rested on her in the Fade. She obviously saw something soft in the human, for all he was a hammer against the world. Perhaps in the bedroom he wasn't the brute he was out of it.

Solas tried to steer his thoughts away from that kind of speculation, but it was so difficult with her gliding in front of him. Her hair was pulled behind her in the way it always was when they traveled. He knew her amber eyes were sweeping in front of her in long, slow lines, taking in the entire landscape and missing nothing. The strength in her arms, not apparent until you knew to look for it, the long lines of her legs under her fitted leggings, the way her short coat flared over the curve of her hips - he missed nothing, either, even though he saw little of the forest. When her head turned to the side to sight movement, he held his breath and felt himself stir lightly. He needed his mouth on her. He never wanted another man to touch her as long as he lived.

He groaned under his breath. Maybe Cullen had taken a vow of chastity in the Templars. He hoped so, otherwise he wasn't sure how he'd avoid killing the man.

His less-than-honorable thoughts were interrupted when Ellana signaled to her right. Not the sign of enemies, but of a more natural danger. A predator, perhaps. Something she thought they couldn't work around.

He readied his staff and nodded, even though she still hadn't looked at him. Shifting closer to her, he took up a position near enough that they would be working the same sightlines without being caught together in an attack. The underbrush was the exact wrong light for seeing, still shadowed from the setting sun but without enough penetration of its rays to illuminate anything. He wondered what she'd seen.

Until it became clear, seconds later. Four wolves sprang in unison from the dark places he couldn't see. He reacted instantly and sent lightning towards them, arcing it between three of them as the fourth broke off to circle. He swore to himself but kept himself focused. Ellana could manage the straggler.

Again he struck out with his magic. The Fade danced around him, and he gathered its energy to his purpose. The one he'd missed fell in the corner of his vision to something she'd done. One of his targets collapsed, and another was close, when he heard a growl behind him. He barely had time to react before a something hit him.

He braced himself for pain, but there was none. Whatever had hit him slid away silently, and he didn't have time to look. A final burst of her ice froze the remaining wolves, and they shattered like dreams in front of him. _Forgive me, my brothers_ , he thought. _This world is not what I would have given you._

Only then did he turn around to see what had happened. A female wolf, the largest and likely the most brutal, lay at his feet with an arrow through her eye. A clean and deadly shot. Solas looked at Ellana, who held her bow loosely in her hand.

He stooped and retrieved the arrow, cleaning it carefully. A glance at the other wolf made it clear she'd burned it to ashes with her magic, so he didn't bother to approach. Moving carefully, still watching for other predators, he handed the weapon back to her. "Nicely felled," he said. "Thank you."

"Andruil must watch over us," she said. Her tones were business-like, but he saw the way her eyes studied his body, assessing him for injuries.

"I'm fine."

"Of course." She looked over the scene in front of her. "We can't take time to skin them, but if we let out the blood and leave them with trail signs around, maybe the hunters will find the bodies while they're still of use. It would be a shame to waste them."

They suited actions to words. He made sure she didn't notice the brief blessing he spoke over the pile of corpses as she left the signs Lavellan would understand.

* * *

They'd walked a little while longer, until the sun was nothing more than a sliver over the horizon. Just when it was in danger of dipping away completely, he caught up to her to say that they should look for a place to stop.

"Just a little farther," she said.

He growled. "It's foolish to keep going in the dark. We'll be vulnerable, and we'll miss any clues to our objective while we stumble around."

"I'm in charge. I say we keep going."

"You are not in charge. That's ridiculous."

"I'm the Inquisitor. This is Inquisition business. I'm in charge." She spared him a quick look. "Did you forget who saved your life earlier?"

"I don't repay my life by allowing the people who save it to make stupid decisions." He huffed a breath as her face tightened. He saw exhaustion on it. He tried to stay calm. "This isn't Inquisition business. It was a personal decision. If it's personal, there is no one in charge. We have to work together."

Her pace didn't slow. "Okay. We'll work together by continuing forward."

Solas lost his temper. "Would Cullen let you keep going? Be reasonable! You're exhausted. It's dark. We are only two people. You're no good to anyone dead."

At that she stopped and looked at him. "Cullen would know better than to argue with me."

"Then he's an idiot as well. Please. Stop. Rest." He hated the desperate note that colored his voice, but he couldn't help it. He needed her to stay alive. If she didn't, he really had destroyed the world.

She sighed. "Fine. There's a clearing over there." She waved her hand vaguely. "It looks like a good place."

"Thank you," he said with an unwise amount of sarcasm.

"I'm still in charge," she said, shoving past him.

The clearing was a good place to rest. It wasn't too large to defend, and it had several places of shadow and shade to hide them. She set about setting up a rough camp, and they ate quickly and silently. When they were done, he studied the forest around them. "We shouldn't need to keep a watch here. The trees provide cover, and with both of our wards we should be well prepared for any invaders."

"Even with possible Venatori around? They could get through our wards without us being any the wiser."

"Unlikely this close to Lavellan. If they were so near, your Clan would have encountered them. Either way, we have little choice. You clearly need sleep if you're to be effective at all in this search. And if I stand a full watch, I'll also be useless."

"I'm perfectly rested."

She blinked rapidly to remove the weariness from her face. He rolled his eyes.

"Obviously. I've never seen you so awake," he said. He walked a perimeter and placed his wards carefully. Far enough from the trees to avoid tingles from the wind, but not so close to them as to give no warning. "You should place yours behind mine, but layer them in between the gaps I've left. That way we'll both be warned at the same time but have some redundancy."

"I think mine should go in front. They're more sensitive, and I'm a more skilled fighter. It will be better tactically if I wake up first."

By Arlathan, was she going to argue with him about everything? He wheeled on her to bring an end to the endless debates and caught a smirk on her face before she schooled it back to stubbornness. He crossed his arms. "You're doing this on purpose."

Wards snapped up behind and around his in exactly the way he'd described. She rolled over into her mat and pulled her blanket across her shoulders. "I have to amuse myself somehow. It's going to be a long trip."


	6. Honesty

Solas woke the next morning to the sounds of a soft prayer. The words were quiet, indistinct, but the wavering timbre of the voice that spoke them conveyed their meaning even more perfectly. She was afraid. She was lonely. She was faithful.

Pain pricked at his still-closed eyes. He wished there were the gods she wanted, ones that would be worthy of her, instead of the dead whispers of an arrogant race. He captured the feelings she released and pulled them to his own heart. _I am no god, but I will be this,_ he thought. _She will not be alone again._

He clenched his fists. Still he lied to himself so sweetly. He could no more stay with her than recreate Arlathan. All he could do was make a cleaner end than before. His own sins couldn't be her burden.

_Besides, why would she want you to stay?_

As he thought it, the prayer stopped, and he rolled over as if he were just waking up. Ellana sat cross-legged in the middle of the clearing and turned at the movement. "Good morning. For all the talk about how I needed sleep, you got plenty of your own."

He sat up and rubbed his hand over the top of his head. How could he tell her that he'd spent part of the night on watch, fearing for them both despite what he'd said? How he'd slept lightly, ready to wake at even the hint of her presence in the Fade? He settled for saying, "The sounds of the forest must have relaxed me."

"If you say so. I'm ready to go when you are."

He sprang to his feet and made for the treeline behind him. He paused at the wards that were still up and looked back at her questioningly. She smiled. "Your trigger placement is terrible. I've already been in and out a half dozen times."

When he only stared at her, she clambered up to show him. There was a small gap between the edges of his wards. Not the ones he'd left for her to place her own between the layers, but a true negative space, and when she dropped hers she danced back and forth across the line without him feeling a thing. He growled.

"I suppose even the great and powerful Rift mage can make a mistake," she said smugly. He couldn't help but smile at the satisfaction in her voice, and might have lost his irritation with himself altogether if it hadn't been a mistake that could have cost a life.

He shook his head as he dropped his own barriers and walked away. He turned back just before the trees covered him. "I'm surprised you waited for me to wake, if you had a means of escaping."

Her face darkened and closed itself off, like the sun gone behind a cloud. "I said you could come. I don't abandon people I make promises to."

* * *

They traveled both more quickly and more slowly, making good time through the trees. Their increased speed came from there being only two travelers instead of the usual four or sometimes dozens that had come with the Inquisitor's usual parties. The slowing happened as they came upon more things to be investigated and scouted. She consulted the map frequently to note their location, and he used the opportunities to sketch a guide of his own landmarks and notes, things that would be useful but not on any official map.

She watched him once as he drew evocative symbols in a few lines. A possible abandoned campsite. A place where the animals had once lived but had moved away out of fear. A tree that smelled of metal instead of wood. He knew he was showing off, but the admiring look in her eyes was too intoxicating. Almost as intoxicating as her breath on his neck as she leaned closer.

"You should watch the forest," he said, reluctantly. She nodded at the reminder and took up a guard position again. "I'll show you the sketches when we stop for rest, if you desire."

"That would be nice. You're talented." Ellana laughed. "I sometimes don't know if the visitors to Skyhold come to see me or the mosaics. They certainly leave more impressed by the pictures."

He felt a flash of pleasure that she hadn't removed them from her walls. At least a part of him remained in the keep. A wary hope lifted its head to scent the air. "As they are all of you, that cannot possibly be true."

He looked up briefly, wanting to see a flush of color on her cheeks, but she only shrugged. He squashed his hope mercilessly and went back to drawing. They didn't speak again that morning.

* * *

Solas got better at ignoring the lure of her presence as they moved. His thoughts were unruly and hard to tame, but his eyes stayed focused on the trees and the signs and didn't watch her as they'd done before. The danger was too great. And perhaps he was getting used to the magic of her again. The thought made him a little sad.

They stopped at a stream to refill their water and eat something. She set up traps around their position, hoping to capture fresh meat for their dinner, and he used his magic as best he could to hide them further. He tried to be gentle and conserve his strength. They'd found a camp a half an hour earlier that held clear signs of the Venatori to those who knew what they were looking for. He grudgingly admitted that it was good they were the ones who'd done this. The local humans and Dalish didn't have the expertise needed for this hunt.

Not that he would ever say it to her.

The day was cool and clear, and he showed her the sketches as he promised. She said nothing, but her face was pleased while she flipped through them. It was easy to imagine they were out traveling as friends, having a picnic by the water and enjoying each other's company instead of on a mission. Only the feeling of danger on the back of his neck and the oppressive silence between them spoiled the experience. He wanted to break it, but he also knew the silence was good for them. It kept him from wanting too much.

To his surprise, it was Ellana who spoke. "I don't like this. We can't do the work well if we only speak to fight. And we need to do it well. Plus, we have to have a chain of command." She gave him a sharp look when he protested. "We have to, Solas. We can't be arguing when something actually important happens."

He drummed his fingers on the ground. "I assume you still see yourself as the head of this chain?"

"Yes."

Solas admired the direct way she spoke. She'd never been one for shading the truth. "I'll consider it." He laughed at the shocked look on her face. "I am capable of considering ideas that aren't my own."

"A miracle for the current age. The Chantry will be pleased. They didn't think the Herald had another one in her."

He tipped his head. "I think she will be surprising them for years to come. Particularly if she prays to the Creators instead of the Maker in their chapels."

A grin threatened to split both her face and his own heart at once. He looked at his feet. "As for speaking, we seem to be doing it reasonably well now. Perhaps we are only silent because it is our way."

She plucked a blade of grass and twirled it, as she always did when she was preparing to say something unpleasant. He wondered if she knew she did it. "It's not that. I have questions. Things I want to know. There seems no better time to ask, but not if it will break what little peace we have."

It was a dangerous box to open, but one he was powerless to deny her when she looked at him with those eyes. His soul scratched inside his body, begging to bare itself to her judgment. He cursed himself again for ever coming to Lavellan. That growing part of him was exactly why he'd left in the first place.

"This is not an easy thing you ask," he said finally.

"I know. But I think you owe me." She touched her face, where her markings had once scarred her, and he relented.

"Fair." He looked inside himself for the caution they needed. "We should start small. A question for a question, each time we stop."

"You have questions?"

He nodded.

"Okay. Will you tell me the truth? That's not my question," she added hurriedly.

He felt his mouth tug upward. "I don't know if I can answer everything you wish. But if I cannot, I'll say so. I will not lie."

She bit her lip. "I accept that. So here is my question. Did Corypheus get the orb from you?"

He hissed, and she flinched but looked at him without fear. This was not small. But he'd sworn not to lie. She was watching him so closely.

"Yes," he said.

She paled but didn't speak.

"I cannot tell you where I got it. Nor did I know how he would choose to use it. But it was my mistake."

The hurt in her eyes was a knife held to his throat, and he couldn't go on. He stared at the ground, miserable. "It was my mistake," he repeated in a harsh whisper.

"I suspected, but…" Her voice shook. He didn't look at her. If she stood and left him, he knew he would let her go without a word of protest. And then he would sit by this river forever, waiting to die. But she didn't stand, merely breathed for a long minute, then sighed. "What was your question?"

He looked at her incredulously, but she wasn't joking. He couldn't read her face, which was locked up as tightly as Leliana's strongbox, but she waited with no hint of impatience. He nearly wept in relief. Instead, he spoke in a hoarse voice. "Why do you hide your skill with your bow?"

She caressed the weapon on the ground next to her, and for once the movement didn't cause a twinge of lust inside of him. That hunger seemed to have blown away under the truth he'd sworn never to admit.

Her face held a sad, secret smile. "My mother wanted us all to learn to shoot. Even after my magic showed itself, she demanded I try," she said. "it didn't go well."

"I was always the least of us. Falon was a natural, and the oldest. He was their joy. Nuriel was still a baby, but she was their world. I wasn't a natural, just a quiet child with no useful talent. I was the fourth mage in a Clan that only needed three. I was going to be sent away, to another clan or to a Circle. It was like being a ghost. And I would leave without my mother's approval because I couldn't fire an arrow into even the widest oak."

Solas leaned forward, but she forestalled him. "It's what I thought at the time. I was young. I didn't understand that they loved me, that they were grieving the inevitable. I just knew everyone was pretending like I was already gone." She picked up the bow. "I went into the woods in secret, to practice. I drew the bow until my fingers bled, but no one noticed because I wasn't there, not really. The Keeper was the only one who treated me like I existed, so he might have known, but that was all. And I got very good. I learned the skill that I hadn't been born with.

"On the day I was finally ready to show her what I could do, the Keeper found me. He said he'd told my parents that he would keep me in the Clan and train me. He said Mythal had told him to protect me," she said. "A lie, but it worked. I stayed, and I was allowed to be real again. The first thing my mother said when I got home was that she was glad she had so many years left to teach me how to hunt."

"But why still pretend?" he asked.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and he wanted to hold her with everything that was in him. He stayed where he was.

"It was the time we spent together," she said. "When she taught me, it was just her and me, alone. And I loved her so much. I didn't want those times to stop. I thought they would if I admitted I'd mastered it. I thought she would move on to more important things." She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "I suppose I lied so often about it that I forgot it was a lie."

Oh how he knew what she meant.

She wiped her face and rose to her feet. "We should go." She walked away to check the traps without looking at him. He picked up the remnants of their things, and when she came back with a rabbit in her hand, he took it from her without a word.

* * *

Ellana Lavellan was the weakest woman in Thedas and had no business running the Inquisition. That was the only thought she had as they made camp in a cave that night. Despite the dream-free rest she'd gotten the night before, there was a weariness in her bones that was consuming her. Solas was a traitor. He'd almost destroyed the world. He'd almost destroyed her. He never would have told her about it if she hadn't asked.

Yet he was still here, with his bedroll as far away from her as possible. She hadn't killed him. She hadn't banished him. She hadn't even yelled at him. Instead she'd told him one of her most intimate secrets and cried in front of him like he was a person. All because he'd looked sad.

She snarled. Was she really such a soft touch?

He looked over at her from the fire where he was cooking their catch. The meat smelled good, but her stomach rebelled against it. She'd berated herself all afternoon, whipping herself into the anger she hadn't been able to feel at the time, and she didn't want to sit next to him and have it erased by her own weakness.

She shouldn't have worried. In the corner of her eye, Solas banked the fire he'd set, took a small portion of the rabbit, then walked outside to leave her to herself.

That understanding galled her. He knew she hated him, he knew she didn't want to see him, so he made sure she didn't have to. Since their game of honesty, their silence was complete. He stayed out of her sightlines, and even when they'd had to kill a cougar looking for an easy meal, he'd never even gotten close enough for her to accidentally singe him with a fire spell. And yet whenever she did catch sight of him, his face was agony, the lines of his body defeated and broken. Perversely, all this did was make her want to comfort him, no matter how much she whispered _traitor_ to herself.

The bastard.

The temptation to shoot an arrow after him was too great, and she threw her bow out of reach to stop herself from doing it. She begrudgingly took the rest of the rabbit and ate it, needing the calories even if her stomach didn't want them. She finished quickly and laid down, begging the gods for sleep. She felt rather than heard him re-enter the cave, and she closed her eyes against his presence. She wouldn't look.

She lay still for ten minutes, roiling internally, then pushed herself back up. He sat at the cave's entrance with a hunched back, using his staff to draw symbols in the earth. She stomped over to him and sat down. "I want my question. We're resting. I demand it."

"Ask what you will, Inquisitor."

She ignored the formal title. "Why don't you ever apologize?"

"Excuse me?"

"You don't ever say you're sorry, for anything. For Corypheus. For my sister. For invading my Clan. For leaving in the first place. For being an arrogant bastard. For anything! Why not? Do you not feel regret, or do you simply think we're all so beneath you that our forgiveness isn't worth seeking?"

He looked at her with surprise. "I have many regrets."

"So we're beneath you."

"No! You could never be - " His face was so stricken that she felt herself responding. _No. Stay angry._ He placed a hand over his eyes and rubbed them slowly. "There's no sense in asking for a thing that you don't deserve to receive."

"That's not the point of an apology, you unbelievable ass," she said. "Whoever told you that an apology is for you?"

He didn't answer, and she shook her head. "Creators help us, spirits are terrible teachers. My Keeper may have told me never to apologize, but even he knew that you do it so the people you've wronged have a chance to get past it. It's not absolution for the villain. It's peace for the victim."

He lowered his hand and tears shone bright in his ageless eyes. "If it will bring you peace, then I will apologize. I'm sorry for all the things you mentioned and all the things you didn't." He grabbed her wrist and ran his thumb over the mark. "I'm sorry for this. I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry you saw me again. There is not an apology big enough to cover all I've done, but if it's what you need, then have it."

She pulled her hand back. He didn't resist. He picked up his stick again and drew an image in front of them. An elf drowning in the sea, terrified, while a crowd watched from the shore. Her heart tightened. But she didn't forgive.

"Why Cullen?" he asked quietly.

Ellana stared at him, completely flummoxed, before she realized what he was asking. Fear pricked at her, but she hadn't promised not to lie. Right now she couldn't bear the truth, that there'd been no one but this man in front of her, this betrayer, since they met. Maybe never would be again.

The problem was, she had no idea how to answer. "He's brave. He's stable. He's good at his job." She winced. That sounded more like a performance review than the gushing of a lover. She tried to remember what Cassandra said when she talked about him. "When he sets himself at a task, whether it's a mission or a woman, he doesn't hold anything back. It's appealing to be the only thing in the world that matters to someone, even if just for a little while. And he would hurt himself a thousand times over before he hurt me."

"I see."

When he didn't say anything else, she rose and went back to her bed. She set a ward, and before she drifted off she felt another one go up in front of hers. Close enough to sense, but not close enough to touch. _No dreams, please_ , she prayed as she fell into unconsciousness.


	7. Guardians

The morning brought a light drizzle, which seemed horribly unfair given she'd woken determined and purposeful. She was the Inquisitor, and more important she was Ellana Lavellan. So what if Solas was a traitor? It was nothing she hadn't already guessed. So what if he was hurting? It was no concern of hers, and he would leave soon anyway. Instead of flopping around like some lost mabari puppy, emotions dancing on the wind, she should set herself to the task at hand. As she rolled up her bed and repacked her bag, that was exactly what she did.

She'd so successfully disappeared into her newly hardened persona that when Solas appeared at the back of the cave shirtless and dripping wet, only half of her mind shut down.

He stopped and quickly pulled the tunic he was using to wipe his chest over his head. "I'm sorry," he said carefully. "I thought you would be sleeping. There's a stream behind the rocks if you'd care to use it. I wanted to be clean before…" He trailed off and gestured towards the rain. "I'll finish gathering our things."

"Yes. Thank you."

She grabbed the first clothes she found, barely paying attention. She'd seen him partially bare before, of course, but not nearly as often as she'd wanted to. He'd always been careful around her. Not inviting temptation, she'd thought at the time. Teasing her, she suspected now. Either way, it had never been enough. And she'd forgotten how good he looked when he'd slipped and given her more of a glimpse than he intended. The smooth, wiry body, muscles clearly visible for all he was a mage instead of a fighter. He reminded her of an animal, coiled and tight under the surface, and even now she wanted to run her hands over him without the barrier of clothing he'd kept between them for so long.

Ellana forced the other half of her mind to take over, the half that was being the business-like Inquisitor. It stood gracefully and even offered him a cool smile as she walked past to where the water waited. Only when she was alone did she allow her eyes close. She breathed out. _Mythal, protect me from this,_ she thought, then frowned. Perhaps the mother of the gods wasn't a good choice to guard a heart or other, less noble, parts. But there really was no god to specifically prevent attraction, only enhance it. She'd never thought about it before, but now it seemed like an obvious oversight. _I guess I could always pray to the Wolf._

The stream was hidden well behind a seemingly unbroken rock wall, which explained why they hadn't found it the night before. At least Solas had found it now. To be clean would be a mercy. She stripped off the armor she'd slept in and placed her hands in the cool water, ready to run it over her face.

As soon as it hit her hands, she heard the singing.

She dropped it instinctively, but even as she did she felt her body leaning towards it, wanting to drink. Foolish. Foolish not to test it. Mages were so vulnerable to the song. She was vulnerable. Her hands were reaching back against her will, and she wasn't strong enough to fight.

No. This wasn't the Fade. She was the Inquisitor. She was Ellana Lavellan. She was strong enough for anything.

Inch by inch she forced her hands back to the armor she'd left on the ground, forced them to pick up the clothes she'd brought with her. She couldn't leave them, because if she ever came back here she would be lost. Step by careful step she walked backwards until she felt smooth stone at her back. It jolted her out of her stupor, and she turned and fled.

Only when she was back to the camp, only when she saw the remnants of their fire, did she remember Solas. He'd touched the water, probably been in it. Maybe even drank from it. Even in her terror she realized she should be afraid of him - he might even now be tainted - but instead she was only afraid for him. When he looked up from his place on the ground, surprised at her quick return, she dropped everything she was carrying in a heap. She knelt beside him and grabbed his face in a vise grip. "Did you drink from the stream?"

His eyes widened, and she realized her hands were shaking and cold. He reached up and took them in his own. "Calm down, Ellana. Calm down. What's wrong?"

"The water. It's poisoned. It's not safe. Did you drink it?" she demanded. Calm was for another time. Calm for was when they were safe.

"No. I know better than to drink from a stream with an unknown source. But I sensed nothing wrong with it. Tell me what you felt."

She searched his face, looking for the lie. Would the lyrium start growing out of him, as she'd seen in the horrible future he couldn't remember? Would his violet eyes turn red-rimmed, his voice deepen into demonic tones before he died? The fact that it would be a death of his own devising was no comfort to her.

He rubbed warmth back into her hands and looked back at her steadily. His soul was the man she knew. Concerned, sad, a little afraid of her, but still himself. She pulled a hand free and placed it on his heart. Her eyes closed tightly while she listened for the sound of the song in his blood. She didn't know if she'd be able to hear it, but she had to try.

His heart was quiet and strong, and she relaxed just a little bit. He must have sensed the release of tension and let her other hand go as well. She sank back on her heels and tried to breathe.

"Tell me," he repeated. It was a command, but gentle.

"There's red lyrium in the water here. Like they did with the well in the village during the war. Trying to infect people. I heard it singing to me." Even now she could hear its echoes, calling her to come.

He spoke in soothing tones, like one spoke to a frightened halla. "Is it possible it's simply remnants of what was done at the time? Red lyrium is difficult to remove."

"It could be. Or it could be a new source, some new plan. Either way, things around here must be drinking it. The plants and trees, the animals, they could all be infected." She tried to stand, and he held up his hand to stop her.

"Peace. It may be. But you know that water is not a good transmitter of the lyrium. It's too diluted, not carried purely enough to cause more than minor effects. If it's remnants of a past attack, we must continue to wait for it to clear. If it's a new source, we'll destroy it. Either way, things will be as they were before it arrived." He looked around them. "If we can delay for another hour, I will investigate what I can."

She started to ask how, then she realized what he meant. He would go into the Fade to try to sense the source there, or ask the spirits who watched their world what they'd seen. She would be alone in the cave while he slept.

Her calm deserted her again as panic rushed in. What if she went back? "No. No, we have to go now." Ellana turned and picked up her things, throwing the armor on over her clothes and jamming the rest into her pack. She felt him rise up behind her and knew he would argue. "I'm in charge!" she snapped.

"Of course, Inquisitor."

His meek submission broke her frayed nerves. She was making a stupid decision, a choice made of fear instead of wisdom, and this was no time for him to accept it from her. She wheeled around with her satchel held loosely in her fist. "Now you choose not to argue with me? This one time, when it actually matters what we do, this is when you say 'Of course, Inquisitor'? What use are you if you'll let me do this?"

"No use at all."

"You should fight me! I'm stronger than some lyrium-filled water. I can sit in this cave alone for an hour and withstand it if it will tell us how to stop it."

"Yes, you can."

She looked at him then, his eyes cast towards their feet, and she saw the faint smile he was hiding.

Her temper broke in a different direction. Why was she always so out of control with him? "You did that on purpose."

Solas didn't hide his smile then, though it was sadder than she'd realized. "You needed to hear it. Who else would you trust but yourself?"

He led her to a smooth place on the ground, near the cave entrance, and lay down. She settled next to him, trying not to be afraid. He looked at her reassuringly. "I will come back, Ellana, and you will be here just as you are now."

She nodded. He closed his eyes and slipped into dreams easily. She stared out of the cave, hugging her knees, and prayed.

* * *

The Fade here had edges, places that he hadn't yet explored the physical world, but there were spirits enough crowding around. He'd even met some of them, though the ones he'd spoken to had known nothing of any strange humans or occurrences across the Veil. He looked around him for the landmarks he'd placed so carefully on the page, ones that would translate into the world of dreams. After a long minute, he had his bearings. The cave was close by, ahead of him, and he walked towards it in the gauzy way of the Fade. He listened around him, feeling foolish.

Why had he told her he might be able to help?

A spirit of compassion rose next to him, small and slight. It was both Cole and not. The feeling was the same, but the little pieces that made Cole himself were missing. Varric had been more right than he knew about the changed nature of a spirit who crossed into the world.\

The wisp danced around his feet. "You can't hear the song."

"No, little one. I can't."

"You let her go to the water and be afraid because you can't hear it. It's okay. You didn't know."

"Ignorance is no excuse for one such as I."

The spirit pressed itself against the Veil carefully. "She's not as afraid as you believe."

"Thank you. But please do not risk touching the barrier for my sake. It's not safe."

"But I helped." The spirit danced back, a little confused. Solas nodded kindly but turned away, and the spirit vanished. Safe for now. And it had helped. Ellana's terror had frightened him badly. She must have been very close to giving in. Had she done so, it would have been his fault for sending her there.

They'd learned the lyrium was alive during the war, but only he had truly understood what that meant. The Old Gods, as the humans called them, had lost their power into it long ago, and it had festered and bred under the earth until Varric's brother unleashed it on Thedas. A Blight was simply lyrium grown wings, an ancient elf gone mad in the darkness and wreaking havoc on the earth in its pain. One of his brothers of long ago, struck down into forgotten slumber. He'd often wondered what it would be like, to be broken into a thousand pieces and scattered into the bones of the earth, but he'd never been able to think about it for long.

Of course, the same power ran through him, muted and aged, and he couldn't hear the song from without when it also lived within. He certainly couldn't hear the song of the earth in the world of dreams. _Madness. I will learn nothing here._ But she'd needed something, and her need had pulled at him to act, to do anything. She was his to protect. Not some cause's. Not some human's. His.

The darker side of him rose in possessiveness. Other spirits sensed the change and drifted out of the distant Fade, stronger and more aggressive than the gentle ones he'd seen so far. These were the ones he needed. They'd touched the Veil more closely, pressed against it more tightly, mingled with the humans more intimately than the others. There were more than he'd thought to find, as well, a clear sign of humans with more ambition than sense reaching through. Venatori-created demons, almost certainly.

Solas never feared the Fade, but as they began to circle him he felt the danger he was in. He was strong, but they knew it, and they wanted his mind badly. He smiled at them and prepared to fight.

"Tell me where the humans are," he demanded. Images crashed into his mind of human bodies, alien minds, full of life and feelings and need that they sensed and wanted to touch and possess. He sorted through them as quickly as possible, looking for the signs he needed of their location while they used the opening to try to take hold of him. He saw lyrium growing out of a hole in the earth and stopped, grabbing the vision and memorizing it quickly. Time was hard to gauge in the Fade, but this seemed recent. A place to start.

He wasn't fast enough. A desire demon drifted to him, and it was perfect. It didn't just wear Ellana's face, which was simple, or mold itself into her body, which was usual, but it was her.

She wore the clothes she'd worn the night long ago when he'd almost given in to her. They danced on a balcony so lightly, and the feel of her was Arlathan, the taste of her was home, and he wanted more than he had in centuries. When she'd pulled him into her bed that night, a bed of silken promises, he'd almost broken. Only the mark on her hand had woken him from his lust, and he'd walked away painfully. Better to feel pain now, himself, than to leave her later as a true lover. It wasn't right to take her heart when she didn't know what he was.

"I know what you are now," she whispered. Her eyes were full of trust, and they needed him, only him. She summoned him down a dark road that he craved beyond measure. "I still want. My body and my heart are yours. Do what you will, love."

Solas tried to clear his head. They were laying on the bed at the Winter Palace, her hands were on him, tugging at the formal clothes he wore, and they were insistent and arousing him past thought. Her mouth was greedy against his own, but something about his mind wasn't right. Something about this wasn't right. How could she know what he was?

He looked in the corners, for the places that the world was weak, and he saw the seams that stitched the dream. He punctured the image around him with his mind, and it faded. Ellana turned back into the demon, who pouted. "I would have been what you wanted."

"You never could be. I conquered desire long ago." He made to fall back through the Veil, to find himself again. "And now I know what I needed to learn."

"Do you?" chuckled another voice. "One never knows what they don't know, do they?"

He stiffened and turned around. A pride demon watched him, self-assured and grand. It was rare to find them still existing in the Fade, as the world pulled them through so often in ignorance, but the ones that were here were always the most dangerous.

"Only the most dangerous to you, namesake. Not all vices can be so easily lost, especially for an ancient one."

"If you know what I am then you know I'm too strong for you. Tell me what you wish me to know," said Solas. He paused. "Unless you know nothing at all, spirit."

The figure gave another rumbling laugh. "A trick that won't work on me. I've been feeding well off of the other side. I'm stronger than you, now. The red magic in their blood is so powerful. It makes them feel invincible. They love my whispers in their dreams and feed their arrogance back to me." The spirit moved closer. "Let me show you what they are."

"A trick that won't work on me either." Solas kept his mind closed.

"Not even to help your beautiful friend? She's weakening, namesake. She shakes with need. She won't last if you don't destroy the source." The demon spoke softly, and he felt a thrum of fear run through him. "But you can stop it. If you just learn enough, you can stop it all. What use will her human be to her then, when you are so wise? You'll be everything she wants, if you save her. Nothing else will matter."

He saw it so clearly around him, as the Fade shifted and warped into new shapes. Ellana at his feet, not seductive but awed. She would never look at anyone else because he would be her world. Her savior. The demon crowed in triumph as it wormed deeper into his head, pushing aside the pieces of him that doubted, but Solas didn't care. He could be strong again. He wouldn't have to leave. She would want all of him, would know all of him, and he would be too powerful to deny.

A part of him rebelled, twisting away in fear, but he crushed it. Cullen would die by his hand. No one would take her from him. The world would know she was claimed. He would be worshipped.

And at that word his mind tripped over itself, crashing into a heap. The wave of power he rode on was still there but he was no longer inside of it. _I am no god_ , he said fiercely. _I would never want that. Get out of my mind, demon._

But it was dug in tightly, holding on, and it tried to make him slip back out of the Fade into the world. Where Ellana waited for him, trusting him still after everything he'd done. He fought with all his strength to keep himself asleep. _I'll break the link to my body,_ he threatened.

"You won't leave her," the last of the demon's voice said outside his mind, and it was right. He felt a bone-deep despair surround him. Solas the fool, destroying all he cared for again.

He looked down at a flash of light at his feet. The compassion spirit was back. "I'll help," it whispered. The pride demon roared, but it was too late. Compassion broke itself against Solas's body, and he heard.

"Creators guard him. Bring him back, please. I don't want to be alone. I can't be. I'll drink and die, and it will live inside of me while I'm dead, and I can't. Help him, Mythal, Elgar'nan, Andruil. Sylaise. Heal him. He's a traitor and a liar and a friend and I need him. Don't let him leave now. Not yet. Please. I'll do anything you ask."

Ellana's voice glided into the Fade. Her prayer washed over him, desperate and full of pain, and he was humbled beyond measure that she would spend her faith on his broken soul even while she despised him. He deserved none of her concern. He didn't deserve her.

As the shame flooded through him, the pride lessened, and the demon slipped away into the distant Fade. The compassion spirit was gone as well, only a whisper in the dark, and he mourned it. Too many people gave him sacrifice in both worlds.

Solas found his way back through the Veil to where his body waited, armed with the images he'd gotten from the spirits. He woke with a headache that he knew he was due. It was a reminder of how close he'd come to losing himself to arrogance. But when he opened his eyes and she remained praying over him, he felt nothing but peace.

He reached out and touched her knee. Her eyes flew open, and they were naked with relief. "Are you you?" she said, searching his face as she had when she'd asked about the water.

"I am," he said. He tried to sit up, feeling a little emptier than he liked.

"Prove it."

"When you're worried you always twirl something in your hands. Cassandra loves romance novels, but will never admit it. The rookery was a horrible thing to put over a library at Skyhold. And I will never allow you to be in charge of a mission again."

She laughed a little shakily and threw down the rock she'd been toying with. "Okay, I believe you. You were thrashing around for a long time. It didn't look good."

"It wasn't. But you're strong, my friend. There was never reason to fear." He looked away, afraid she would see something she didn't want in his eyes. "I have an idea of where we might look for new lyrium."


	8. Trust

They stopped looking for signs of occupation in the woods. He was convinced the strangers existed, and she trusted his conviction. She trusted him, more than he ever would have believed possible. Their game of honesty ended, however, and he suspected it was because she was afraid of what else he might reveal to make her doubt. Her foundations were rattled, knowing what they were moving toward. The only reason he continued was that he had no way to stop her from going without him.

Solas watched her face at each rest break he made them take. Outwardly she was calm, as settled as he'd ever seen her. But there were signs of strain around her eyes which confirmed they were heading in the right direction better than any map he could draw. It was like watching a statue be born from the inside. He had no magic to help her, except when she slept. Then he laid his hands on her head as she closed her eyes, and he sent her away from the Fade. He knew the dreams would not be gentle for her with her mind so weary.

She was solemn and grateful for his help, and it was that more than anything that kept him going. Taking away her dreams was small comfort compared to what he wanted to do, which was wrap his arms around her and feel her steady breathing against his chest. The pleas to the gods she'd said over him echoed in his mind. The desire demons perfect mimicry whispered across his body. In the face of both he was lost.

He couldn't remember why he'd ever thought he could be away from her.

Once she saw him studying her as they sat under a tree. She tried to smile. "You really don't hear it?"

"No. Perhaps my trips into the Fade have dulled my hearing."

"You're lucky. It's not pleasant." She grimaced. "Well, it is, which is what's unpleasant about it."

He didn't ask. The time for their questions was done, and she'd shied away from any discussion of what she felt near the substance. It seemed she was ashamed of it, which he didn't understand. Even the distant echoes of Elvhen power were stronger than anything in the world today. There was no shame in being drawn to it. He hissed when he remembered that there was no way she could know that's what she was feeling.

"Maybe I'm just weak."

Her eyes wouldn't meet his. His heart sank further. His immunity was giving her doubts.

Solas grabbed her hand and squeezed. She breathed in sharply. "No. Many others have felt the call and not resisted. You have. You will continue to do so," he said. He smiled. "Only you would take a renewed resistance to temptation as a weakness instead of a strength."

The amber in her eyes darkened to a molten gold. "It depends on what's tempting me, I suppose."

She bit her lip, and he almost groaned. They were so close to each other, close enough that he could reach out and run his thumb over that worried lip if he chose. He stood up hurriedly, turning his back to her and rifling through his pack to hide his reaction to the wanting he'd seen on her face. For lyrium, not for him, but his body obviously didn't care.

When he felt able, he turned back. "We should keep moving." She nodded and took point once more.

* * *

They stumbled on the Venatori camp almost by accident. Ellana stepped full in view of their sentry before realizing it, and only her quick reflexes and the man's inattention saved them from immediate capture. When she moved back into the cover of the trees, she fell against him, and he savored the contact before releasing her again.

She motioned to the west. They circled through the trees silently, footfalls soft and sure on the carpet of the forest, and they found no defensive wards. He laughed to himself at their arrogance, then at himself for judging it.

Eventually she slowed and pointed to an outcropping of rock. It was a good vantage point, low enough to see clearly but high and sheltered enough that only the most determined would see them. He nodded. She let him go first, trusting him to show her where to place her feet. She was silent as a ghost through the woods now, but she'd never been a very good climber.

He pulled her up when they reached the top. The view looked over the ravine at an angle that allowed a view of all but the part flush against the stone. _We need to find a way to view that angle,_ he thought absently, but there was no urgency to the thought. The red glow that consumed the basin was the only thing that mattered. It sprawled out over the landscape, covering the largest area he'd ever seen. It seemed to be growing out of the hole he'd seen, but there was so much more of it now than what there had been.

"Oh Creators," breathed Ellana next to him. For once he was inclined to agree. If Arlathan hadn't fallen, if his brothers hadn't been such fools… He snapped out of his thoughts when he felt her tremble. No wonder she'd heard the song so strongly. This was something more than they'd ever known. He couldn't imagine what it was doing to her now.

When she closed her eyes against it, he joined her. _Whatever is out there, help her. There must be something. Help her._

No answer. He shook his head at his childishness. There was always and only them. He would be enough.

He brought his mouth to her ear, aware of how far voices might carry. "We have to look for the lost soldiers."

He felt her nod minutely, and she opened her eyes. They knelt next to each other and catalogued the ground below them. She pointed to smoke rising off the horizon, hazy and faint to the east. He saw the tracks of wagons heading away from it, likely carrying lyrium, and nodded. That was where the center was. As they watched, a group of men came around a bend in the road beneath them. His stomach turned over.

The men, and some women, were chained together, but it was hardly necessary. They walked like men already dead, shuffling and compliant. Lyrium grew from their bodies in sickening waves, and Solas wondered which ancient's power was filling their minds with a soft fog they couldn't escape.

Ellana gripped his arm and leaned closer. "Their armor," she whispered. He looked closer, beneath the glow, and he saw the distinctive symbol of the Inquisition decorating the breastplates of some of the staggering figures. He hissed in anger, and tears fell from her eyes.

"Too late. They were mine," she whispered.

He barely heard the words, but he felt the anguish pouring off of her anyway.

He shifted closer. Her sobs were choked and silent, and he ached to help her but didn't know what to do. He put a hand on her shaking shoulder, trying to send her all the comfort he had to give. She stiffened under his hand, then turned into him and buried her face in his chest. He tightened his arms around her.

"Not your fault," he whispered over her dark, beautiful hair. "Not your fault." _My fault. Always mine. Don't weep, my heart. I'm so sorry._

She pulled away after a time and wiped her face. It was flushed and perfect as she silently thanked him, and he knew he was going to kiss her until they both forgot their pain. He leaned towards her, silently asking permission, and he saw the whisper of fear in her eyes. She turned back around without a word, but he couldn't bring himself to release her when she was so close. Even if she didn't want him. He kept her in the circle of his arms as the men slowly faded into the ravine, into the place they couldn't see.

He felt her breathe in deeply as soon as they were gone. "I'm going after them."

His heart hammered in his chest. "No. That's madness." He tightened his hold. "What would you do for them? They're beyond saving, Ellana. You saw them."

"I will give them an end," she said, voice hard. She struggled against his grip. "Let me go, Solas. I need to do this. They're mine."

He never knew what he would have said to convince her to stay, never knew how far their fight would have gone, because before he could answer a sharp point drove into his back. "Okay," a voice said. "Who are you?"

* * *

Ellana was supposed to be the leader. She knew this, and yet somehow it wasn't happening in any way. The Inquisition scout who had found them had been surprised to meet his boss at the edge of a Venatori camp, but true to his training he'd been correct and deferential. Until Solas had told him of her plan to sneak into the camp and kill its prisoners, alone and unaided. At that point, the deference had abruptly ended, and she found herself overruled on every front.

Solas looked smug again they followed the scout back to his forward camp against her will. She wanted to punch him. It was hard to believe only ten minutes ago she'd been sobbing against him like a soppy heroine in a Varric Tethras novel. Her stomach twisted at how close she'd been to offering herself to him, high above the lives of the men that her failure had destroyed.

The rational part of her mind tried to comfort her with the justification that emotional trauma was difficult and reactions weren't normal. She'd been under stress. She wasn't thinking clearly.

She thanked it for its effort, but her heart knew it was nothing but base, shameful lust. His body had been so hard, his arms so strong, his eyes so deep and still and full of that something that she could never understand but made her weak at the knees. She really was a soppy heroine, and she knew that if the Inquisition forces hadn't found them, he would have found out exactly how little his truth mattered when it came to her desires.

His staff crackled in the air ahead of her as he used it as a walking stick. _At least Varric's heroines usually get some hope of a happy ending. Or a profession of love before the tragic parting._

Her jaw clenched. What was she thinking? Even if her body was being unruly, the last thing she wanted was for him to love her.

They reached the edge of the camp after several miles of movement. Its familiarity eased her heart, and the song in her head that never ended lessened somewhat. The scout left them to report in, confident that at least one of them would keep them there. _The bald one with the big mouth,_ she thought, annoyed.

As though he'd heard her, Solas smiled. "This is better."

"You would say that, since it's exactly what you wanted."

He glanced at the tents behind her. "Perhaps not exactly." Her heart sank. They were back with the Inquisition. She had protectors again, expert ones that could be trusted to understand lyrium and the Venatori. He would release her to them and melt away.

Ellana tried to summon up joy at the thought. Soon she wouldn't have to worry about herself anymore. Soon she wouldn't have to tear herself apart between the side of her that was furious with him and the side of her that wanted him beyond all reason. Soon she wouldn't have to live under the heat of his stare, or feel his eyes on her skin when he watched her for signs of lyrium voices, or wake up to listen to his soft breathing next to her, reminding her she wasn't alone. She would go into the Fade again, away from his magic that kept her dreamless. His hand wouldn't hold hers anymore when she was afraid. His presence wouldn't soothe the temptations of the song by filling her with another, darker, more pleasurable temptation. Their secrets would go unspoken, no more hard truths or fearful lies.

He stepped towards her, and her stomach fluttered. His eyes were no longer violet but a deep amethyst, and she wondered what excuse he would give for going. At least she would get a goodbye this time. The first time she'd thought he was her lover, while he'd really been her betrayer. Now she knew him for what he was, and she never needed to love him again.

_Liar_ , her mind taunted. She ignored it. "Need something?" she asked more breathily than she'd intended.

His eyes roved over her face, like he was trying to memorize it. "Ellana, I must - "

And then she was grateful for the interruption behind her, for the great crashing noise that stopped him from speaking and kept him here for a small time longer. He wasn't allowed to go again, not while she didn't know everything. Not while she needed him to breathe next to her against the darkness.

She spun around. Varric and Bull stood in a pile of swords, obviously knocked over by one or both of them. "Oops," said the dwarf. He didn't sound very sorry. He gave them both a wave. "Your Worship. Chuckles. I thought you'd lost our address."

Solas stepped beside her and inclined his head. "Varric. The Iron Bull. A pleasure to see you both again."

Bull folded his arms. "You know what they say. One man's pleasure is another man's sword in the gut."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. A pissing contest was exactly what she didn't need. "No fighting. We're all here to help people who need it. Trust me." She was pleased at how even her tones were.

"Whatever you say, boss. We're still in the intel gathering stage. And not the kind I can help with. My boys are ready, though."

The cloak of the Inquisitor settled over her. "There's a lot of lyrium. And some of our people have been changed by it. Worse than the Templars. They'll need the Charger's mercy." The qunari nodded. She paused. "I wish Cullen were here. He'd understand the tactics best."

"Don't you know? He is here," said Varric

She looked at him, questioning.

"Yeah, once they heard you'd run off to solve the entire world's problems on your own, he insisted on being personally involved in bringing you back. To 'face his wrath', I believe he put it."

Solas shifted next to her, and panic rose in her throat. Her fake lover was here, in the camp? Her lie would never stand up under these conditions. How in Thedas was she going to explain it to Solas without looking like a child? Or worse, a desperate idiot begging for his attention? She ran through the possibilities. Fake and hurried break-up, with Cullen playing along somehow. Starting a fire and hoping Solas was too distracted by it to ever ask about her relationship status again. Dying, immediately.

She sighed and resigned herself to her fate. Desperate idiot it was.

Her mouth was already opening to ask him to speak privately when he muttered, "I should leave." Her lips snapped shut and pressed together in a thin line. Right. She didn't have to explain anything. He wouldn't be here long enough to notice or care.

"Maybe you should," she said.

She crossed her arms and didn't look at him. And when Cullen walked through the tents, eyeing the pile of swords with mild interest, she didn't think. She ran up to him swiftly and threw her arms around him. He caught her around the waist to hold her up even as confusion filled his face. "I missed you," she said and kissed him on the mouth.


	9. Respect

There was an extremely long, very uncomfortable silence as the kiss went on. Ellana tried her best to enjoy it, for the benefit of her audience. Cullen wasn't unattractive, and he was certainly strong. She knew many women who practically swooned when he entered a room, though she'd never been one of them, and this wasn't helping. The rough, unfamiliar hair on his chin was scratchy and foreign. And there was a slimy quality about her lips on his, like kissing her father. He was also clearly shocked, and he wasn't responding to her at all.

She groaned, but in frustration. There was none of the head-rushing, free-falling desire she felt from just a touch of Solas's hands.

Eventually she gave up and pulled back. Cullen's face was the exact shade of Leliana's hair, and he set her down quickly. "Ah, hello," he said. His hand ran across the back of his neck, and he looked around nervously. "It's good to see you, too, Inquisitor. It's certainly welcome that you're here. Alive." She heard a snicker from behind him and peeked over his shoulder. Varric, of course. Bull's face was granite.

"I'll always come back for you!" she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

Cullen's face crossed from embarrassed into truly alarmed. He leaned closer and studied her eyes with almost tactical focus. _He thinks I'm an abomination,_ she thought and had to suppress the urge to laugh wildly. _I wonder what kind of demon would make someone act like this. Certainly not desire._

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly. His voice held too much concern. She sobered, ashamed of herself.

"I'm fine, Commander. Really." She tried to make her voice reassuring. "It's been a long few days."

She saw it in his own face, the pull that the lyrium had on him, and he smoothed a hand over her head absently. Comfortingly. She bit her lip.

It didn't look like he believed her, not entirely, but he didn't draw his weapon. "I understand. Sleep has been dear for us as well. Perhaps it will be easier now that you're back." He looked around again. "Please come to the command tent when you've settled. The scout said you've seen more of the enemy camp than we have so far. Bring Solas as well, if he'll come."

She nodded, and he walked away a shade too quickly, looking back only once. Varric spoke quietly as she turned around. "He's gone."

Disappointment and relief warred with each other in her mind. She'd chased Solas away at last. No more pretending. But she still hadn't gotten a goodbye, unless verbally kicking him out counted. She was lost in thought for a long moment before she realized she shouldn't have a clue what he meant. "Who's gone?" she asked.

Bull barked a laugh. "Andraste's ass, that was one of the worst lies I've ever seen. I hate to break it to you, but you're never going to make it as a spy."

She put her hands on her hips and tried to look stern. "I don't know what you mean."

"Give it up, Your Holiness, it's not working. The only people you managed to fool with that little act were the blonde guy and the bald guy. They're not here anymore," said Varric. He put his hands in his pockets. "While it is amusing to see you losing it for once, I'd rather not see your head removed from your shoulders by an irate Seeker. You know she's still pining for the man, right? A little honesty might keep everyone in one piece."

"Oh Creators, I mean Maker, is she here?"

"Off whipping the boys into shape, and not in the way I like," said Bull.

Ellana put her hand over her eyes, and Bull laughed deeply. "This is gonna be one awkward debriefing. I can't wait."

She groaned. Maybe a time rift would open up and swallow the last fifteen minutes of her life.

"Hey, look on the bright side," said Varric, grinning. "Curly was all for clapping you in irons for running off into a forest of Venatori with only a mage for protection. Now he won't even be able to look at you."

"I hate you both." Ellana looked to the sky. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"You weren't thinking. It's a good look on you, Inquisitor. Gives the rest of us some hope that you're still a person," said Bull.

"So are you going to try to sell us on your suddenly unleashed passion for your Commander, or are we going to talk about the mage who's hassling you again? Rude of him to attack someone who's still bleeding from the last pass." The dwarf's voice was light, but there was an undercurrent of anger. It wasn't at her.

Her shoulders slumped. "You knew?"

"You never wanted to talk about it. So we didn't push. But we're not idiots. And Cole has a big mouth."

"I thought I hid it so well." They both laughed, though in their defense they tried to muffle it. "Fine. I'm not as good a liar as I thought."

"No one's that good of a liar when it comes to love, except to the object of it," said Varric. "Besides, if we hadn't seen it on your face, we would have known by the way you've turned every other man away after the first hello." He paused and shook his head slightly. "So what was all of that?"

She looked at the ground. "Solas showed up at my Clan. He wasn't there to see me or hassle me. He didn't even know I would be there. He doesn't want me, wouldn't even still be here if it weren't for the Venatori. He stayed for dinner. I may have let him get the impression that Cullen and I were more than colleagues. I didn't want him to think that I wasn't… that I hadn't moved on as well. He was only supposed to be there one night, and my family was watching, and –"

Varric held up a hand. He looked at her sympathetically. "I've been there. Usually on the other side of the table, but I've been there. Did it make anything better?"

"No. Yes. I don't know."

"Look, boss, I hate to get involved in all of you people's messy, emotional crap. But the Seeker was finally to the point where she could almost give the guy a compliment. She really doesn't need complications." Bull smiled. "Plus I have a lot of money riding on her riding him on this trip."

She glared at him. "I'm not ever going to do that again, don't worry. It doesn't matter anyway. Solas is gone. I'll tell Cullen it was some kind of lyrium craving reaction, I'll do favors for Cassandra for the rest of my life, and everything will go back to normal." Empty, painful normal.

Bull chuckled. "The prick may have left us alone right now, but from the look on his face I don't think he was planning to leave camp anytime soon."

Her heart pounded. "What do you mean?"

"Well I'm not as good at reading lips as I used to be, but I'm pretty sure he's talking to the quartermaster about a tent right now."

* * *

Solas paced the perimeter of the camp endlessly. At the southernmost point of every circuit he looked towards and open path and argued with himself. He should go, now. His things were in the tent they'd provided, but they were only things. He could find new ones. His staff was all that mattered, and he carried it on him. He wasn't part of the Inquisition and could leave whenever he wanted.

A million reasons to leave. Only one to stay.

Fire flared under his skin as he replayed the scene again in his mind. She'd run to her human so quickly, and he'd caught her up easily, as though they'd done it a hundred times before. He'd seen the Commander's obvious concern, the gentle way he'd held her.

A spark of lightning arced off of Solas's fingers. It wasn't right. How could the man be so restrained when she was pressed against him? She was fire, she was passion, she was everything raw about the world. Solas never could have kissed her so softly after he feared for her life. His hands on her could never have been so still.

Yet she'd chosen Cullen anyway.

He growled. He was reaching a level of feral temper that was dangerous for everyone around him. He broke off his circling and headed to the woods, hoping to vent himself on non-human prey. He shouldn't be in this camp at all. None of them wanted him here. Ellana didn't want him here. Cullen could be dead before the next sunrise if he couldn't control himself. There was nothing he could do here that another couldn't do just as well.

Nothing but take her. Seduce her. Make her remember that she was a woman to be desired and inflamed, not hidden away from passion.

_You'll be everything she wants,_ the pride demon whispered. _You'll be strong._

His rage fizzled unexpectedly at the reminder. Who was he to tell her what to want? How convenient that he thought she should want exactly what he could give her. What he wanted for himself. He had no right. He'd left voluntarily. He'd left for just this reason. He'd known she needed anyone but him.

He sighed and moved back out of the woods, the need for bloodletting past, though the predator still lingered close at hand. Bull was waiting for him at the tree line. The Qunari was smiling, but it was the smile he used to conceal truths from the world.

Solas said nothing as he approached, and Bull jerked his head backwards. "Commander wants to talk to you." Adrenaline surged inside of him once more. Bull only grinned. "About the Venatori camp. Your unexpected recon."

"Of course." He sought for calm as he followed the mercenary. Cullen was her choice. He would respect it. He would stay his hand.

The man would hopefully never touch her while he was watching.

Bull stopped just outside the main cluster of tents. "Let's have an understanding. You're here because she wants you here, and this isn't one of the decisions she makes that we all just ignore for her own good. But it's close. No one better get hurt. It won't go well for you."

"I understand," said Solas. The other man looked skeptical. "I can control myself."

"Yeah, that's the problem," Bull muttered. They kept going until they reached the command tent, and they both stepped inside.

* * *

The atmosphere was businesslike and formal, to his relief. Cullen shook his hand easily and welcomed him back without apparent rancor. And why not? He had no reason to fear him. Ellana's loyalty was more complete than the Commander knew. Solas kept his face calm, but the wolf inside of him only looked for weaknesses when they sat across from each other.

Ellana took a seat exactly halfway between them both, and his hostility settled back into mere dislike.

Cassandra joined them, and she took in his arrival with her usual indifferent eyebrow raise. "So, you have returned." She didn't seem to expect an answer, so he offered none. She turned to Ellana. "I'm glad to see you safe, Inquisitor, despite your best efforts to the contrary. I heard you had quite the welcome."

Ellana mumbled something about mistakes. Cassandra frowned at her. "The scout acted completely properly in bringing you back, even at the point of a sword. Do not blame him for saving you from foolishness."

The Inquisitor nodded solemnly, red-faced, while Varric coughed. Cullen cleared his throat on the other side of the table, and Cassandra took her place next to him. "Let's begin."

He turned to Ellana. "Inquisitor, please tell us what you've learned."

Before she could answer, a flash in the corner interrupted them all. Cole stared at them with curiosity, then focused on him. Solas tried to smile. "Cole. It's good to see you again."

"You made me forget you, but now I remember." Cole frowned. "That was wrong."

"Yes." Solas paused, then added deliberately, "I apologize if I hurt you."

Ellana's mouth twitched into a half-smile, and his heart lightened.

"I couldn't remember to be hurt. And now I don't need to hurt because you're here." Cole looked around at the rest of them again. "Why is the table so rough?"

Cullen smiled. "We can't carry a real table with us, Cole. We had to make it ourselves."

Cole waved his hands in the air. "The bumps will go with you when you leave. Things are not smooth."

His eyes floated to Cassandra, then settled on Ellana, Cullen and Solas in turns. Solas wondered if compassion would force a conflict he still wasn't ready let himself to lose.

Varric coughed again, and Cole looked at the dwarf. "I'm not supposed to talk about those kinds of hurts anymore. I'll go."

Just like that, the spirit was gone, and Solas breathed out. The rest of the group relaxed as well, and talk turned to purely tactical matters. He and Ellana had come from an unexpected direction, and the Venatori were keenly focused on the Inquisition's location. The surprise meant they'd seen the edges of the camp, gotten a clear view of the lyrium growth, and seen the pathways for both the wagons and then prisoners. It was enough to begin planning more than the scouting and harrying they'd already been doing, and Cullen promised to have a proposed campaign for them in a few days. Varric promised to have a plan to infiltrate and release the prisoners, to the Maker or to the Inquisition's care, soon after.

Ellana thought it wasn't fast enough, and said so frequently, but the Cullen was adamant that they needed caution. Solas couldn't stop a pleased smile as they debated. So much for her darling Commander knowing better than to argue with her. She looked over at him as he thought it, and the exasperation on her face with them all was glorious. It almost made up for the fact that he wouldn't be the one with her as she slept tonight.

When the meeting ended, though, it was the Seeker who stayed behind to talk to Cullen. Ellana walked out casually, without even a goodbye, and the Commander's eyes didn't follow her as she went. He barely seemed to notice her absence. Solas's temper rose again. The man was an absolute idiot.

He left the tent quickly, struggling to contain his outrage on her behalf. She didn't need him to champion her. She seemed perfectly content to be ignored. He saw Varric nudge her, outside the tent, and she shook her head at whatever he said. Then she looked at him, and Solas realized he was staring. He turned around quickly and went back to his perimeter walk. If nothing else, he would know the edges of the camp to perfection by the time this was over.


	10. Understanding

As sunset was beginning in earnest, Solas took another detour into the woods. The predator refused to be soothed when it was so close to so many strangers, and he'd been alone too long to be easy with people. Hopefully the forest would bring the solitary feeling back, at least enough to get him to the night. He also intended to hunt, this time for meat instead of simply blood, but voices in the trees caught his attention before he began.

There were also rhythmic thuds, odd and likely to scare away any game he would have been able to find. He drew closer, looking for flashes between the branches, and when he stumbled on a hidden clearing he stopped.

Varric, Iron Bull and Ellana sat on a fallen log, frowning in concentration. Varric and Ellana shot at a target forty feet distant, while Bull tossed throwing axes at another one in between their shots.

When he was sure they weren't aiming in his direction, he stepped unobserved through a hole in the trees. He stayed in the shadows and watched them collect their weapons for another try.

"I didn't think Dalish were allowed to be this bad with a bow," said Varric. "Didn't they give you any lessons on this trip home?"

"Just because we grow up in the woods doesn't mean we all have to be good at the same things."

"Now you sound like Sera. Too elfy welfy!" he said in an a terribly-accented voice. "She wouldn't even come with us on this mission. I think she was afraid it would rub off on her."

"I'm perfectly happy being Dalish. That doesn't mean I have to be exactly like everyone's ideas of them." Ellana sounded irritated as she pulled her last arrow out of the tree well above the target.

Varric laughed. "Sorry, sorry. No offense meant. But you really are a lousy shot."

She smiled then. "True. Though we can't all have a weapon that does all the work for us."

"If only everyone were as blessed as I. Alas, I'm one-of-a-kind."

Bull sat back down, tossing his axe in the air. "And hey, that wouldn't be any fun. Working the weapon is all of the pleasure."

"So you've been reminding us. We're going again," said Varric. They fired several new rounds at the tree, with Varric's all clustering towards the center while Ellana's barely hit the target. Varric teased her mercilessly, but she never got angry. Instead her smile was secret, and a little proud, and Solas wondered if anyone else would ever see it.

He chuckled as she emptied her quiver. It was true her arrows rarely hit the target, but they also never went off in to the trees where they couldn't be found. They all hit somewhere easily retrievable.

Solas stepped forward before she took her final attempt. "Perhaps you should try standing as you shoot. It's difficult to do accurately from a sitting position."

"Not the way I do it," muttered Bull, entirely unsurprised, as Ellana whirled towards him with her bow drawn. When she saw who it was, she relaxed.

"Creators, I mean Maker, I almost shot you," she said.

"Not much chance of that," said Varric. She smacked him.

Solas ignored their banter and focused on her. Out here without Cullen. Again. Prey without a protector. Prey he couldn't resist chasing. "Try," he challenged in a rough voice. He couldn't help himself. She was so much more than she was pretending to be.

Her eyes darkened as he stared at her, and she rose gracefully. Her stare burned him as hotly as if she was channeling fire through it. She drew her bow again, gave the target one flickering glance, then held his gaze as she loosed the arrow directly into the center of the target.

Varric laughed, and Bull gave a low whistle, but he didn't hear any of it. She commanded all of his attention, with her serious expression and mocking eyes. He had to be imagining the desire he saw in them, the charged need he'd been sure she'd be sating with Cullen. The gentle human Commander. Maybe she'd realized she wasn't entirely happy with his soft love. Maybe she wanted as he did.

She was challenging him now, asking him to be who he was. Every instinct he had was screaming to accept the searching look on her face. It wasn't enough. Parts of him wanted all of her, but he would take whatever she gave him.

When she walked over to the target to gather her arrows once more, Varric and Bull pointedly didn't follow. Solas did instead, standing behind her as they smoothly removed the weapons from their resting places. When she grasped the center arrow he put his hand over hers and stepped as close to her as he dared. Their bodies were almost melded, brushing only a little as their bodies swayed in natural rhythms. His breath ghosted over her ear, and he felt her answering shiver in every part of him.

He placed his other hand on her hip lightly, holding her in place, and whispered, "Where is your lover?"

Her breath hitched. Her free hand bunched her tunic at her thigh, and he'd never felt as alive as he did in that moment, with her desire for him so plain. "At camp," she said raggedly.

"A shame. He misses much, the Commander. He doesn't know what you have to offer." His voice lowered to a growl. "I do."

He pulled out the arrow under their hands with little effort. At the same time he let his lips brush the tender tip of her ear. She made a noise deep in her throat, a low cry that nearly undid him, and leaned back into his growing arousal. He tightened the hand on her hip before letting her go and stepping away. This wasn't the time for more, not in the forest with enemies and friends about. Not with Cullen close and waiting for her. Not when she was still confused with the lyrium song. Solas just wanted to let her he'd seen and understood. He was hers, to come to as she would.

_She'll know all of you and not turn away._ He banished the pride demon's voice, but it left the familiar flickering doubt. She didn't know everything yet. She didn't know the Wolf.

It didn't matter. This was the only path that he could take and stay whole.

He walked out of the clearing steadily, and though Varric and Bull both gave him significant looks they didn't stop him. He felt her eyes follow him until he was out of sight.

* * *

The next few days were delicious agony. They continued to dance with each other, and their game calmed him even as tensions rose. When he saw her with Cullen, heads bent in discussion, only the knowledge that he was affecting her, drawing her to him, kept him steady.

They never did anything improper. His lips never touched her again, but his hand always found a place to graze her when they were standing close, and he stood close whenever possible. At the War Table, he always settled next to her. When she took watch, he found her and stood quietly, drinking in her presence and the thickening air between them. During meals, he reached for the dishes she found, and each brush of her fingers brought a new jolt that he savored.

He also played his eyes over her shamelessly whenever they were alone, appreciating her form in a way he'd rarely allowed himself before. He made sure she had ample opportunity to examine him as well, and he knew she did so from the color in her cheeks when their eyes finally met. When he caught her lurking at the edges of the banks where he did his daily bathing, she worried her lip so savagely in her excuses that he nearly broke right there.

At first he'd wondered if he was making the Cullen's nights more enjoyable by priming her so mercilessly during the day. But she came to breakfast every morning flushed and on edge, and he knew without her saying a word that she wasn't satisfied. She never asked him, never took the next step in the dance, but he would be patient. He'd taken the reins in Halamshiral, guiding them across the balcony and into the bed without thought of where it might go. She was the one leading, this time.

Of course, the days weren't all spent in such pleasurable pursuits. Attacks were common, and everyone learned that to stand watch was to watch everything. The Venatori's spells were quick and deadly, and several soldiers lost their lives before they even suspected danger. Cullen rotated people through more often and set up more shifts to avoid exhaustion. He also created shifting patterns of patrols, nothing predictable or easy to follow. Solas had to admit that, as cautious and slow as the Commander was on offense, his defensive mind was unparalleled.

They made strikes against the enemy as well, ambushing patrols and destroying what lyrium they could find. Ellana always insisted on being the one to do it, and when her friends gathered around her afterwards for comfort, he was always one of them. He was her friend, not her admirer, in these moments. Though he chased her and waited for the day she would be caught, that was only a game between them, a game of lust not love. This was their unspoken pact, but she was much more than a body to him for all her heart was someone else's. To keep the two Ellanas separate in his mind was the only way it could be.

Solas swore he would never use her sadness as a step in the dance, and he stayed true to his word. He held her over the remains of the singing lyrium with kindness and support, never temptation. When Cullen met them at the edge of the camp, he slipped away to leave them to the comfort she needed most.

Surprisingly he sensed Varric's approval of their behavior. The dwarf noticed everything around him, and the Inquisitor was observed more than anyone. Both he and Bull were watching them closely. More likely watching him closely _. I don't do this to hurt her. I do this because if I don't I will cease to be,_ he wanted to tell them. Solas suspected Varric was writing notes well into the night, but he never interfered.

Why he would be so accepting of a traitor tempting his leader into a betrayal of her lover Solas couldn't begin to guess. He was simply grateful for the lack of acknowledgement. Solas was conflicted enough about the ethics of his actions, though never enough to stop when she was shivering under the light brush of his fingers. The last thing he needed was someone to remind him of the painful trap he was setting around them both.

* * *

_The Inquisitor shouldn't be so easily manipulated_ , thought Ellana. She sat down at breakfast again in a state that she was profoundly glad her family wasn't there to see. Desire demons flocked to her every night, now, and the effort of resisting their offers was as painful as it was arousing. She said thanks to the Creators for her empty tent and the lack of eyes on her as she woke up shivering each morning and submitting to her own touch. It was never enough. She'd never felt so constricted.

Solas watched her from across the mess area steadily. It was intolerable. They'd traveled together alone for days, and he'd barely been interested in her presence no matter how she longed for him. Now that they were here, surrounded by people, his eyes followed her everywhere. His body followed her everywhere, and he was no longer shy about showing it to her. Whoever the man had been for those months at Skyhold, the one who ran hot and cold as it pleased him, was gone. He'd been replaced by a man who was more alluring than ever for never being cold.

It was a devious game, and a dangerous one when they were alone and she was fighting for every inch of control. She'd finally achieved that upper hand she'd always wanted, and only she knew how precarious that position was. Each minute was the one where she would break, until it wasn't, and the next one was there.

But jealousy was the whip she used to drive him, and he would break first.

Cullen stepped out of the line with his plate of food and sat next to her as he always did. She glanced at Solas again. His face darkened considerably, and she smiled at him with all the sweetness she could muster before looking back to her plate.

Bull gave her a meaningful look, and she felt a flash of guilt. She'd gotten no signs that Cullen was interested in her, and he seemed to have either forgotten entirely about her romantic greeting or was happy to pretend. That was good. But she knew she'd done little to discourage the hesitant tenderness he was treating her with now. He was worried about her, paternally she was convinced, but to an interested outsider the distinction was too subtle to see.

When it came to Solas that misunderstanding was addicting, as addicting as the dark song that rose out of the shipments of lyrium she destroyed. His hands were tantalizing, delicious when they feathered across her skin too often to be accidental. She knew he wanted to regain the control he thought he'd lost, but he was the one under her power now.

He wanted her past all reason, and it was intoxicating.

She couldn't give up the look in his violet eyes any more than she could give up breathing. His lust was balm on the heart he'd broken years ago. If he learned the truth, that he had her at his mercy, he would lose all interest, and the hurting would return.

When it came to Cassandra, the misunderstanding was torture. The Seeker had never needed to speak her emotions out loud for Ellana to read them all over her face, and she was clearly even more infatuated with the Cullen than she'd been even a few weeks ago. And Cassandra loved so simply that Ellana could barely understand how it worked. Her devotion to him was pure - _though hopefully not chaste, for both their eventual sakes_  - and so earnest that it made Ellana feel soiled the game of lust she played each day. Just the day before, Ellana had caught Casandra staring at the lines of gleaming soldiers in front of their leader with such beautiful wonder that Ellana had been crying before she could stop.

The Nevarran had comforted her, and that only made it worse, because Cassandra thought Cullen loved the Inquisitor, and the woman was still being her friend.

_Just a little while longer,_ she pleaded to no one. Or perhaps to Bull, who still watched her levelly, with as much judgment as she'd ever seen. _They have the rest of their lives to love each other. I need this. I deserve something satisfying, even in this hard way. Just a little while longer._

Her guilt refused to leave. She scowled at her hands.

Cassandra sat across from Cullen with a clatter that brought Ellana back to the world. "Scouts reported unusual activity to the west of here. Two Venatori battles simultaneously, neither involving our forces," said the Seeker.

Cullen leaned forward. "Too coincidental to be natural predators. A third faction? Infighting?"

"Possible. Infighting would be a blessing. But Harding described the fight she saw as a mage show, much noise but very little action."

A wicked grin curved Bull's face. Ellana kicked him hard under the table. It was hypocritical of her, she knew, but Cassandra was already uncomfortable enough without the sex jokes. He didn't lose the grin, but he kept quiet.

Cassandra didn't notice the exchange. "The other fight was quieter, almost unnoticed but for the yells and the body that remained. Tracks are confusing, but it looks like there were hostages taken."

"So a big showy fight, and a quiet abduction. Sounds like a distraction to me. We were only supposed to know about the first," said Bull.

Cullen nodded. "I agree. And so we will appear to. A large team will be sent to the site of the first battle to scour it -"

"While a smaller force investigates the hostages," Cassandra finished, smiling. He returned it, looking years younger. Ellana pressed her hands together under the table and tried to fight off envy. Cassandra sipped her water and continued, "The same trick in reverse. I will lead the smaller force. With your blessing, of course, Commander."

"I think Ellana might be better suited. She knows the terrain and is more comfortable in the woods."

Cassandra's smile dimmed, and the pressure of Ellana's hands grew to bruising force. She spoke without looking at them. "I may know the forest, but I'm no investigator. Cassandra will lead, and I'll advise." She glanced at Bull. "You come, too, and find Cole. Four should be the right size, and you know about ambushes and Cole can find the feelings of a place. If that's okay with you," she asked the Seeker belatedly.

"Of course, Inquisitor. In an hour." Cassandra pushed back from the table sharply and strode away.

The Commander watched her go with a crease in his brow. "Ah. Excuse me," he said. He stood as well and followed.

Ellana smiled a little. She wondered if he knew how often he stumbled over himself or how often he followed after the warrior to fix it. He was sweet, but he was no expert at picking up emotional currents, even his own. But watching him watch Cassandra, she wasn't surprised Bull had made a bet on such an aggressive timeline between them. At least the two of them would have a chance after this, even with her own selfishness. They weren't hopelessly chasing a ghost like she was.

"No elf on the trip?" asked Bull.

She pointed to her own ears.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, hilarious, boss. I can see you're really catching on to this whole humor idea. But seriously. You think you can manage an outing without him?" His tone was teasing, but his eyes were deadly serious.

"It might be good for me," she said slowly. He nodded. She couldn't resist a look to where Solas had been sitting, but he was gone.


	11. Healing

When they reconvened, there was no Cole, but there was Varric. She threw Bull a questioning look.

"Couldn't find the kid. We'll have to make do with him. I can find a floppy hat if you want." He eyed the dwarf's head. "Gonna have to be a really big hat."

Varric scowled. "I may not be a spirit, but I have seen a few crime scenes in my time. Research for _Hard in Hightown_. Plus Aveline had a really strange definition of appropriate venues when it came to lunch invitations. I'll be fine."

He looked up at her. "If it will help, I can make spooky observations." The dwarf furrowed his brow and stared at the Seeker. "Impatience. A lot of unresolved sexual frustration. And the desire to stick something with her sword. I can only help with one of those things, I'm afraid."

"Quiet," said Cassandra.

Ellana tried to calm the waters. "Where is Cole, though?"

"Who knows," said Varric. "He's kind of hard to follow now that he's all spirit. I'm sure he's fine. You never know, he could be here with us, right now, completely invisible."

Bull shifted his weight. "Great, thanks. That's exactly what I wanted to be thinking about."

"If we could go? Inquisitor, as you're the leader, please lead," said Cassandra.

Ellana winced. Obviously Cullen hadn't been very successful in his apology. She moved silently to point, and the others fell in behind her. Harding had provided a rough map to the area, drawn by her scouts, though Ellana chose her own path through the trees. There seemed to be no one around, and plenty of wildlife scattered at their approach which was comforting, but it was no use being sloppy.

At once point Cassandra drew up beside her, and she couldn't resist speaking to her in a low tone. "This was a good idea." The Seeker didn't answer. She pressed on. "The separation of the teams, I mean. The tactics."

"It was the Commander's idea."

"It was both of yours. You make a good team." She was gratified when the woman blushed slightly. "He would be lost without you."

Cassandra's face was still stern, though it held a hint of sadness. "I don't think it is I he would be lost without, Inquisitor. Surely you have noticed his attentions towards you. He was very worried when you were away. As were we all."

Ellana drew a pained breath. Her feet still glided silently, her eyes were still alert for danger, but she reproached herself bitterly inside. Cassandra was not only being her friend, but his as well. She was playing blunt matchmaker, as though they simply hadn't noticed each other. Ellana tried to imagine pushing someone to Solas, someone she thought he loved, and everything twisted inside of her. She could never. Did that mean her feelings were more, or less?

She spared another quick glance at the woman next to her, but she couldn't look long at a face that held such deep sorrow.

Definitely less.

The thought freed her to act. "He's my Commander. He's my surrogate father. He will never be my lover."

Cassandra made a disapproving noise. "He would be worthy of it. More than worthy. His regard is a precious thing. A woman would be a fool to deny him where he wanted."

"I agree. Tell him that, Cassandra," said Ellana. She overrode the Seeker's protest with a hand. "I'm not what he wants. I know that. We all do. Tell him. I command you, as your Inquisitor." And that would end it all. Part of her mourned, releasing Solas so much less indifferently than he would release her. But it was time to stop putting herself ahead of these people who deserved better.

"Is this true?" Cassandra turned and hissed the question to Varric.

He'd been listening innocently behind them and didn't hesitate. "Let's just say if you wait until tomorrow I will be a much richer man."

Cassandra stomped ahead surprisingly quietly, though Ellana heard her muttering about the Inquisition and their betting pools and their bloody secrets that no one ever told. Ellana fell back next to the dwarf. "You realize that will only make her more determined to do it today?"

"Yeah. Well, she deserves it. We really have been enjoying ourselves far too much." He grinned at her. "Now that Chuckles is back, we have a whole new source of entertainment."

* * *

The site was still bloody, though the body was gone. No predators remained, likely scared away by the feeling of expelled magic in the place. It was open ground, close to the ravine, with several rocky screens ideal for an ambush. Bull walked around the large outcroppings. Varric examined the sightlines and bloodstains, while Cassandra stood lost in quiet thought. Ellana busied herself with what the woods could tell her and kept an eye out for enemies.

She was starting to wonder if there was anything to find when Bull and Varric both spoke at once. Bull's voice was louder, and he overruled the dwarf. "Boss, there were about a dozen guys here. Enough to grab maybe eight unskilled fighters, probably two or three skilled."

"Two or three. There aren't enough tracks for more than that," she said.

Cassandra shook her head. "There wasn't enough resistance. If they were truly skilled, there would have been more casualties. The dead man was killed by a lucky slash, not a true fighting wound."

Varric interrupted. "I think they were elves. Dalish." He looked at her seriously. "I found some of the jewelry your people wear, near where the body was."

She stepped towards him and held out her hand. When he placed them into her palm, she stopped breathing.. "Lavellan," she said, tracing the markings with her eyes. "These are from my Clan." Fear blew an icy wind across her heart.

Cassandra stepped towards her in concern. Bull swore. Varric said nothing, only watched her carefully.

When Ellana spoke, she knew her voice was too mild. "Lavellan is peaceful. They only defend. They have never attacked a human who didn't strike first, never taken the beginning step of any battle. Even when they suffered. Especially then. They endured. They are an oak in the wind and take no notice of the enemies that try to teaer them down." She clenched her fist around the woven bracelet in her hand. "But I am not Lavellan. I am the Inquisitor, and I will burn the Venatori for this."

At her words, a rift opened in the air. It was small, not even enough for the tiniest spirit to enter, but it was enough to see the glow of the Fade beyond. They all jumped back, and she looked at her hand in panic. She was almost sure she hadn't done this. Her control was better than that after so long. She held the mark in front of her to seal it. As soon as she began, it seized her, pulling at her power and trying to force itself open. She screamed in pain.

Varric grabbed her arm, but it was no use. And then there were enemies around them, and there was no time for anything else.

Cassandra moved in a blur, sword and shield up before the dozen warriors cleared the tree. In smooth concert, Varric's crossbow found deadly vulnerabilities with ease, and Bull drew the attention of the rest, herding them away from her helpless state. Ellana managed to throw up a barrier around them all that would last as long as her mana did, but she feared it wouldn't be enough. If this rift opened, this angry, triumphant rift, the world would fall.

She shook her head to clear it. That thought hadn't been hers. But she knew it was true, and so she fought for control. Her will was the iron of the Inquisition's armor, her heart the fire of her staff, her mind as sharp as her mother's arrows. Slowly, inch by inch, she was winning. The rift shrank, and still there were no demons pouring through, only malevolence in waves that chilled her.

_Ah, Inquisitor. How long has it been? You are strong. Stronger than I anticipated. But still not strong enough._

Corypheus's voice. She froze as the rift finally closed. The fighting around her continued, but she saw nothing. Bull yelled at her to move. She only heard it dimly. The magister's voice, in her mind, and no one else knew.

A blade cut at her and then she was aware again. She placed a wall of fire between her and her attacker with the last of her power. Cassandra yelled on the other side of the battleground, drawing enemies back to her. Varric shouted a warning. Ellana saw it, too. Cassandra was too close to the ravine, and there were too many enemies. She needed to run forward.

Instead she settled into a guard stance and waited for them to come.

Bull killed the last men in front of him with a single swipe, but he would be too late to help her. Ellana's magic was dangerously low, and she was close to fainting. But when a fighter charged the Seeker and sent her another treacherous step back towards the edge, that didn't matter.

Neither did the attacker still swinging through the flames. She banked her fire, drawing it back into herself and sending it out across the open space. At the same time she poured everything she had left into a barrier behind Cassandra, pinning her against it and keeping her from falling.

The enemy in front of her smiled, but the pain inside from the use of too much magic made it hard to care. Her hand sparked madly, as it always did when she was in danger, but she didn't have the energy to use it.  _At least she's safe. The debt is paid._ She fell to her knees and waited.

Blood rained down on her as Bull's sword cleaved the man over her in two. Her eyes closed. The sounds of battle faded, and she heard Varric frantically calling Cassandra's name. Bull shook her shoulders and made her head ache. A coolness hit her lips. Lyrium. She drank greedily, trying to rise back into herself. Bull picked her up in his arms, like she weighed nothing, and carried her. _You can't carry me all the way back to camp,_ she tried to say, but when she forced her eyes open again she saw that wasn't his intention at all. Cassandra lay on the ground, motionless, bleeding from a deep wound in her shoulder, dangerously close to her heart.

Adrenaline hit her, then, and she didn't protest when Bull dumped her on the ground like a sack of turnips. Her hands were already stretching out with a crackle of magic. The lyrium she'd consumed was waiting inside of her, a pool that was still too shallow, and she drained it ruthlessly again trying to knit flesh together into a whole with what healing magic she had. Ellana tried to stay calm. This was no different from the overconfident hunters who'd returned with an injury from a hunt they shouldn't have taken. They'd been saved, too. She'd had enough skill.

There was so much blood. Cassandra's face was so pale. And there was still a debt.

Varric leaned over the prone body. "Stay with us, Seeker. Cullen needs you."

At the sound of his name Cassandra's moved, just enough to give her hope, and Ellana snapped to Bull, "More lyrium."

He fumbled through the pack at her waist and uncorked it for her.

"I should have brought Solas," she said. "He's better at healing."

"You'll be fine, boss. We'll all be."

* * *

In the end it was Cassandra who was carried back to camp by the Qunari, until Varric's advance warning brought more help to meet them. The Seeker was stable through the journey, but in terrible pain. Ellana's magic had been enough for life but not comfort.

She nearly fainted in relief when Stitches was among the large party. He could save anyone.

Bull almost collapsed himself when they took Cassandra from him, and Ellana's moved to him with as much urgency as she could muster. A gash on his abdomen, formerly covered by his charge, was bleeding freely. When she tried to scold him, he only smiled. "I've had worse than this bellying up to a bar. Worry about someone else."

He didn't stop her from healing him.

Only when she was back in the safety of the camp did she allow her mind any release. The effort of channeling her magic had kept her too occupied for thinking, but now there was too much inside of her to hold. Lavellan was in danger because of her. Corypheus had spoken to her, or she was hallucinating, neither of which were comforting. Cassandra had almost died unhappy, and that was her fault too.

She drowned silently in fear until she saw Cullen running to the medical tents. His face was pale and drawn. He spared her a quick nod of acknowledgement before ducking inside, and then there was no room for anything but the shame. What games had she been playing with the happiness of the people under her? How could she have ever thought herself more important than them?

Solas was behind the Commander, and she could hardly look at him. It wasn't fair to blame him for this, but she no longer cared about fair. If only he'd stayed when she wanted him to. If only he'd never come back once he'd left. When he tried to speak to her, eyes bright with questions, she brushed him off with a curt, "Later." He didn't come after her when she followed Cullen into the tent.

The healers were clearly annoyed with having so many people inside, but they weren't foolish enough to banish the Inquisitor and her Commander. Cullen stood out of the way but watched with tight eyes as they gave Cassandra the aid they could.

Ellana stepped next to him. "She'll be okay, Cullen."

He didn't answer, and she realized he was murmuring a prayer to himself. Something from the Chant, but she didn't know it well enough to place it. She prayed to the Creators alongside him, also asking their forgiveness for blending them in the prayer to another's god. Surely they wouldn't begrudge her for that.

After he finished, he reached out and gripped her hand with painful force. He didn't look at her, but his voice was thick when he spoke. "Thank you for saving her."

"Don't thank me. It was my fault. It was…" This wasn't the time to talk about Corypheus, with so many ears around, and she still wasn't sure what she'd heard was real. "I should have been watching."

He didn't answer, only squeezed her hand again. Cassandra's eyes fluttered open, twice, before she fell back into unconsciousness. Stitches gave a rare smile, and they both relaxed a little.

One more thing to tell him. "Commander. The Venatori have taken some of my Clan."

He didn't seem to hear her. "Cullen. My family. Please."

He looked at her then, the desperation of her voice reaching him, and his eyes were clear for all they were exhausted. "Send Harding in immediately. We'll prepare and scout tonight for a rescue operation as soon as possible." He put his hand on her shoulder to forestall her argument. "We must know more before we act. But we will act, Inquisitor. I swear it. I owe you a debt."

The guilt came back, strong and hot, and so she agreed with him. She turned to leave then spun back impulsively. "One more thing. She loves you. Don't let her leave before she tells you herself."

The hope that brightened his face was too much for her lonely heart to bear. She left the tent in tears.

* * *

Solas paced outside of the tent. He'd only let her go in without him because she seemed physically uninjured. And because the Commander was there. If she had injuries of the heart, he was the only other one who could help. He put his faith in the human to do what needed to be done. But Solas waited because there was nowhere else he could be.

Then she came out crying, and he hated himself for yielding.

"Are you well?" he asked uselessly. Clearly she wasn't, but he had no other words to offer.

"No. Cassandra is hurt. Lavellan hunters have been captured by the Venatori. And there was a voice…" She trailed off.

He laid his hand on her arm without thinking. She pulled back sharply, and he tried not to care. "Which hunters?" Were they men and women he'd known? Felt comfortable with, what seemed like so very long ago?

"I don't know. I don't even know how many. But they have them."

"When do we move?"

Tears streaked down her cheeks. "I don't know. We'll do recon first. Try to find them. I have to find Harding." She sounded so lost. It scraped across his soul, and he didn't know how to help.

He motioned to a nearby soldier and gave him the task before turning back to her. She seemed calmer, but there was a wariness in her eyes he didn't understand. Was she worried he was playing their game even now? He tried to make his voice comforting and even, to show there was nothing further from his mind. "I'm sure the Commander won't allow any harm to come to your people." He smiled as best he could. "He could do no less for his love."

The wariness gave way to sadness. "Solas, I'm not his love. I never have been. He and Cassandra are in love. Or they will be soon. This is over." She looked at her feet and repeated quietly, "It's over."

He blinked, sure he'd misheard her, and then there was only rage. No wonder the man had seemed so indifferent. He'd taken another while she was away, pretended to an affection he no longer felt, and finally left Ellana to bleed when she needed him most. _I'll kill him,_ he thought darkly. He paused. Replacing the Commander of the Inquisition would interfere with too many things. _After we've rescued her family. Then I'll maim him, at least._

She was still watching him with those dejected amber eyes, waiting for him to answer. The wariness was back, and he understood. She thought he would take full advantage of her now, use her sadness as he hadn't before to try to force her to give her more than she wanted. He wouldn't. Just because the man, the idiot, had rejected her, it made no difference to the lay of her heart. He would never ask her to give it to one such as him.

They would play the game of the bed, and nothing more.

He made himself step back. "I'm sorry."

"It was my fault." The tears in her eyes spilled over again. "I need to go." Conflict swirled in her eyes before she moved towards him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, feather-light and almost too quick to notice. He felt its outline tingling against his skin when she walked away. He knew he would dream of it that night.


	12. Belief

He did dream of her, but it wasn't the familiar dream of desire he was expecting. There were no demons left in the Fade now, and only the strongest and oldest spirits remained. They showed Ellana kind and wise and loving. They gave him pictures of a future with her, outside of the bedroom, that tempted him beyond anything demons had ever offered.

He tried to argue with them. He showed them her heart broken and bleeding for another; he summoned the sounds of her tears he could still hear. They refused to listen.

A spirit of love nudged him gently. "She prayed over you, ancient one. Those are the sounds that matter."

"She will not love, my friend, not with me. She's your darker nature given life, but desire isn't dark when it's hers. It's enough."

"It's enough for Solas, the prideful one. Is it enough for the rest?" said a spirit of wisdom. It circled him, gentle in its lecture. "Do not make the same mistakes again, child of light."

He shook his head. "I'm no child. And the time of light is long past."

"The light is older than the world itself and younger than its newest life. It will never be past, though it may not look as it once did."

The spirit of love swirled into a snarling wolf, black as midnight. It changed into a milky cub, protected by midnight's aggression. "Love was born in light. The love of the darkness for it made them both more than what they were. The darkness is better when the light is near. The light is only seen where the darkness meets it."

"They require balance," the wisdom spirit added.

"So she is the light, and I am the darkness, and we must pair? That seems prosaic for such noble spirits."

They laughed at him, and he smiled as well. "You are both. She is both," said Wisdom. "Life is so much more complicated than the gods wished to make it. They desired to embody one idea, as we spirits do. You follow their path if not their creed. You held only one purpose for yourself, Solas, and eliminated the rest, but to finish your rebellion you must accept a new one. You must forget Arlathan's dream and don the cloak of your new world. You must accept Fen'Harel."

"Arlathan cannot be forgotten. And Fen'Harel is dead."

"You mean it has not been forgotten because Fen'Harel will not live." The wisdom spirit became chains around a shadowed heart. "Your brothers are scattered and faded. Other gods lie trapped in worlds that will never be seen again. Mythal chose to alter and was born anew to live fully in the world. Only you will not change, stubborn little wolf. And yet you are already changed, more than you know."

The love spirit whispered, "Your heart is open."

Ellana's familiar face rose between them. He snarled. "To attempt to plant love where there is no fertile ground is kindness to no one. It isn't wise."

Another burst of laughter. "That's all I am. Wisdom unheeded doesn't lose its truth. But go. She needs you."

He felt himself rousing. Someone was shaking his body outside of the Fade, saying, "She needs you." Over and over the words came until he clawed his way into the world of reality. Cole leaned over him, close enough to share breath. His hat brushed Solas's forehead, but he settled back when Solas blinked at him and sat up.

"Cole. Who needs me? Is someone injured?"

The spirit shaped like a boy thought carefully. "Yes. But not the one you can help. I will help her. The Inquisitor is yours. They are the same outside but different inside. Find me with the Venatori."

He grabbed Cole's arm. "Cole. You can't go there."

"I have to. I have to help." He smiled brilliantly and vanished, his voice coming from the empty spaces of the tent. "Your heart is open. Use it. She needs you."

Solas swore and dressed as quickly as he could. He walked into the moonlight and looked for Ellana. It wasn't hard to find her, striding across the camp alone, dressed for battle but carrying no weapon. When she hit the edge of the camp where two guards stood watch, she didn't break stride as she hit them both with a spell that sent them crashing into sleep.

He swore again and ran after her.

When she flung the same spell behind her without looking, he was prepared. It crashed against the barrier he raised with enough force to stagger them both. He took the opportunity to take her arm, then dropped it as she sent fire through her skin into his hand. Her face was a cold mask, and there was no recognition there.

He wrapped healing energy around himself and grabbed her again, gritting his teeth against the gathering heat. "Ellana, it's Solas," he said. He made his voice quiet, insistent. She didn't respond, only snarled. It was the sound of an animal caught in a trap and ready to fight to the death.

He felt her gathering her power for a true strike against him, one he would have to hurt her to stop _. Use it,_ whispered Cole, and he pulled her to him and kissed her gently. His lips met hers not with passion, not with driving need, but vulnerable love. She could destroy him this way. There was no barrier against such close contact, even for the most powerful mage. He didn't brace himself, though, didn't try to prepare. The spirits were right. He was hers. She could do what she would with him.

She didn't press back against him or respond with heat. Her response held no desire at all, but she did stop spreading the fire under her skin and no strike ever came.

When he was convinced she was in control again, he broke away with effort. Her eyes were angry but not mindless, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Ellana."

"Never do that again. You had no right."

"I'm sorry." He wasn't, but he knew she valued those words. "Where are you going?"

"Corypheus has Nuriel. He'll hurt her if I don't go to him, tonight, alone, and offer myself. She's screaming for me. She's screaming for you. I'm going to make the trade. And you won't stop me, Solas. Don't try."

* * *

Corypheus had spoken to her in her sleep. Not in dreams, not exactly, because he was in a part of the Fade that wasn't a part of it at all. She didn't understand how it worked or even how she'd done it, but the place she'd sent him to was different. Not connected. It was like the courtyard of the Eluvians, only his plane of existence had no key. Or so she'd thought.

This was another thing she'd asked Solas's empty room of mosaics when he'd never come back.

Now the cries of her sister were all she could hear. She'd seen her chained among the landmarks at the Venatori camp they'd scouted so carefully. Lyrium surrounded her, and she was afraid. It wasn't touching her, not yet, but it was so close to her skin and growing constantly. It would absorb her soon, if no one stopped it.

Ellana would stop it.

Someone was grabbing her, trying to pull her back. She sent spells against them mechanically, waiting for them to back off. Light spells, then heavier, and they were still touching her and she was going to have to kill them.

The thought was less distressing than she would have believed.

Lips were on her own before she could unleash her full strength, and the recognition was immediate. _Solas_. It was dry observation instead of emotional reaction, but it was enough to make her reconsider killing him.

When she told him what was happening, he didn't argue. He didn't swing her over his shoulder and carry her back. He didn't even yell for soldiers to come and join them. Instead he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the Venatori. "You won't go alone."

* * *

She asked him only two questions as they walked. "Why do you believe me?"

"Cole saw your sister. Compassion doesn't lie. Corypheus or not makes little difference. The danger is real."

She tried to feel relief that Cole also knew, that she wasn't alone, but such soft emotions were beyond her now. "Why come with me? I won't let you interfere with my choice, Solas."

He didn't look at her. "Solas would interfere. The mage you met always knew what was right. There is nothing right here, and I will do anything to keep Lavellan safe. I promise." He swallowed hard. "Anything."

It wasn't until they'd surrendered to the sentries that waited for her that she realized he hadn't answered her question.

* * *

The Venatori were wary of two mages where there should only be one, even weaponless, and they argued among themselves as to whether Solas should be killed. Ellana stiffened at the suggestion, but he only said mildly, "Corypheus would not wish me killed. He knows I'm useful." When they hesitated, he added, "I know what sat on the throne in the Golden City when he arrived. I know why he claims it was nothing. We are bound together, and he will want me."

Ellana's jaw dropped in spite of her tension. She tried to get Solas's attention, but he still didn't look at her. The guards muttered, but their leader overruled them, deeming that they could always kill him after Corypheus ordered it. They bound the prisoners and led them to the shadow under the outcropping that no scouts had ever been able to see. It was as bright as sunlight underneath, but sunlight that was twisted and wrong. The red glow of the lyrium, strangely muted, and the green glow of a partially opened tear in the Veil combined to a grotesque effect. Her stomach turned as she realized the same unearthly glow was covering her.

When they stopped, the guard's leader stepped to the hole in reality and leaned his face dangerously close. "My Lord, she has arrived, with one other."

"Let me see."

The magister's voice again, but this time outside of her head and in the rift. She shivered, and Solas looked at her then with concern. She stilled herself, making her face strong for his sake. She wouldn't give him a reason to interfere.

The guard turned around with an alien light in his eyes and studied the pair in front of him. A grin threatened to split the man's face as the voice issued from his own mouth. "Inquisitor, as requested. How good to see you. And my old friend. Come to betray me again, godling?"

Solas shook his head, but she stepped towards the man before he could answer. "I'm here. I offer myself. Let my sister leave."

"Always so willing to sacrifice. So eager. I wonder who taught you to serve others so faithfully. Certainly not the traitor next to you. However, I cannot release your sister until you release me in turn, Inquisitor," he said. The guard's face was starting to tear, his body break down in front of her. Light issued from wherever the skin broke, but he still lived. The rest of the Venatori murmured prayers, and the name Corypheus was on all of their lips.

"What are you doing to him? You're killing him!"

"Concerned for your enemies now as well? You'll have no one left to fight if you take them all into your shadow."

Solas spoke quietly. "The man's body can't sustain Corypheus's spirit. He doesn't have the strength. He will burn from the inside out."

Actions followed words, and the Venatori collapsed in a pile of ash. The crowd around them cried out fervently and redoubled their prayer. Sounds of praise rose into the night, and she felt sick.

Corypheus's voice once again came from the tear in front of them. "He has been touched by his god. He was elevated above all others and now rests in the paradise that waits for the truest followers."

"You killed him."

"I touched him. Mortals do not often survive holy encounters with their gods. Wouldn't you agree, old friend?"

She heard a growl from behind her and shook her head. "You said you wanted to be released."

"Yes. From this prison you devised in your ignorance. Release me from the Fade, and I will release you from my wrath. You need not worship. Simply refrain from opposing me, and you can live under my protection the rest of your days."

"So you can rip apart the world and remake it in your image? No. The people of Thedas don't deserve you."

Corypheus made a light tsking noise. "Perhaps you forget your motivation. Bring me the prisoner."

Ellana heard scuffling and scraping behind her and whirled around. More Ventori dragged Nuriel between them. Her sister was bruised and bloody but made no sound, not even to cry. Ellana looked closer and realized they'd gagged her with magic, using some kind of silencing spell around her throat. "Stop that! Let her speak. Nuriel, are you okay?"

"Whether we stop is up to you, Inquisitor."

Solas muttered under his breath and the gag fell away. Ellana looked at him in surprise, and he offered her a small shrug. His face told her nothing at all.

Nuriel coughed. "I'm okay. Oh Ellana, I'm so sorry. I just wanted to find you. Join you." Tears fell then, not tears of physical pain but tears of the heart. Her eyes flew to Solas. "I wanted to prove myself. And Falon chased me, and Therin, and now they're…"

Ellana's blood ran cold. "Falon is dead?" _He can't be. He has a child. He's needed._

"They were very difficult prisoners," said Corypheus. "Fortunately a trap needs only one piece of bait, if it's the right bait. As soon as she walked into my awareness, I knew you would see reason. Use the anchor and release me."

Tears gathered in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. "You'll kill us anyway. We're both dead standing here. Your word is meaningless. Why would I let you free?"

A rolling laugh washed over her. "Death is the least of what waits for your mirror, Inquisitor."

A guard wearing thick gloves approached Nuriel with a block of red lyrium. The red glow illuminated her, making her blood and skin indistinguishable under is light. "She will be a strong subject. Ever since your agents killed our others, we've been eager to replace them."

Her mind flashed back to the future she'd erased. Lyrium jutted out of bodies and lined hallways as the people inside screamed and wept and suffered.

"Ingestion is only one method of corruption. Blood is even more effective. And her blood runs, Inquisitor. Shall we watch her change, here, now, or will her death be clean?"

Nuriel's face was all-too-clear in the glow of red lyrium. There was no other choice. _Elgar'nan forgive me. Mythal protect us. Sylaise heal her_ , she thought quietly, and raised her hand to the rift.

Before she'd even begun to channel energy, Solas shouted, and the guard next to Nuriel dropped. The lyrium fell to the ground and shattered. Ellana quickly destroyed the pieces with a jolt from the anchor, and the life inside of them poured out. No danger to anyone, now.

More Venatori fell, bleeding heavily, and Corypheus roared. A Venatori beside her shuddered as the magister's spirt entered him. He laid a vicious hand on her arm. "What have you done?" he hissed.

She shook her head dumbly as spells flew at her sister from the Venatori. They stopped before they reached her, like they'd hit a barrier, but there was no barrier. Neither she nor Solas had channeled any magic at all.

Corypheus seemed to realize this at the same time. He tried to run towards Nuriel but the body he inhabited couldn't move quickly enough. A dagger sprouted in its throat, and the man blew into ashes in front of Ellana. When she blinked through the haze, she saw the faintest glimpse of a floppy hat behind her sister.

Solas stepped closer to her with a small noise of fear, and she knew he'd seen the same thing.

Before either of them could do anything the hat was gone, the bindings around Nuriel's wrists and legs were gone, and she was fleeing against the rocky wall to the path up the ravine. Whatever was shielding her followed alongside, deflecting spells, and Ellana saw that rather than running, she was being pulled along by a ghostly hand.

Nuriel screamed back once for them both, but then she vanished to safety, and Ellana could breathe again.

"So much for bait," she said shakily.

Corypheus spoke from the Fade once more. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," she said. "The Creators are faithful. They turn the Wolf away from our paths when we walk in their light."

"The Wolf," he said speculatively. He asked again, "What did you do?"

Her companion answered lightly, "Mythal protects her own. She answers when called."

"Mythal is gone."

Solas shrugged, a slight smile on his face. A smile sharper than his usual indulgent look. Ellana tried to remember the last time he'd spoken of the gods.

"It matters little. She hasn't the strength left to protect another, even if she exists. And the bait is no longer useful once the trap is sprung, in any case. If you will not help willingly, you'll help unwillingly."

The remaining Venatori stared daggers at her, and she stared back with all the steel she didn't feel.

"Bring more lyrium. The Inquisitor has need of it," said Corypheus, pleased. "I know you are susceptible to the ancient song. Once it sings in you, I will have all the control I need."


	13. Acceptance

Ellana struggled against her bonds when they placed the lyrium in front of her. Her self split in two as she stared at it with wide eyes. She wanted. She didn't want. She gave in and resisted. The anchor flashed in her hands, whether to open or close she didn't know.

Corypheus was speaking but the craving drowned it out. The melody in the crystal twined with the magic in her until it was all she could hear.

She didn't know how long she stood on the edge of falling when a quiet voice cut through her mind. It whispered support and encouragement. The indistinct words held their own notes, a song that was harmony with the lyrium but not the same. The lyrium embodied beauty and held hidden danger. The new voice was dangerous but held too much hidden beauty. She wanted both, and they fought each other inside of her.

Eventually a violet light emerged from the new voice. It pierced the red fog and fractured its melody into harsh dissonance. _Solas_ , she knew, and for once the lure of the rise and fall of his tones was comfort instead of torture. _Keep talking_ , she wanted to say, but her mouth refused to form the words.

It didn't matter. He understood. The fog lightened again, and yet again, as the words grew clearer. _Hold on. This will be over. Be strong, my love. Fight. Rebel. Don't forget who you are. Stay with me._

"I'll stay. Don't leave," she whispered.

The violet inside of her warmed to a sensual caress, and the last remnants of the lyrium song faded away under its touch. Her mind was still fogged, still drifting, but now on sweet desire. Her hunger was no less, but it was a hunger that strengthened instead of dominated. She reached out with her magic and caressed him back, feeling him twist in pleasure underneath her. When his light started to withdraw and fade, she cried out.

_I'm sorry,_ he whispered, and he was gone again.

* * *

The man who'd called himself Solas watched Ellana suffer as the lyrium pulled at her mind. He still couldn't hear the song, but this close, with this much lyrium, he felt who lay trapped and scattered inside of it. Dirthamen, keeper of Arlathan's secrets, and one of the most powerful of the ancient elves. No wonder Corypheus was finding it easy to sustain himself and his pathway to the world on such strength. No wonder it called to Ellana so desperately

Grief filled him at this new method of human enslavement. Would they never stop using the power they couldn't hold?

He laughed bitterly to himself. He was about to offer to chain himself as none of the gods ever had.

He calmed Ellana's mind as best he could, sending whatever strength for the fight he had to her. It wasn't clear if she could hear him, if anything he was doing even mattered, but she relaxed and grew less anguished as time passed. Determination appeared in her bearing again, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She was strong. She would never submit.

He turned back to the rift. "There's another way, Corypheus," he said. "She doesn't need to release you. You don't need the Inquisitor."

"And what way would that be, old friend?"

Solas couldn't answer, and the silence stretched out. He refused to look at the woman next to him. Even now he couldn't bare himself in front of her.

The voice laughed. "Still so anxious to hide yourself? Your fear of hard truths was always your weakness. But very well. Take the Inquisitor to the prepared cell. Perhaps a companion will sacrifice for her, this time, instead."

Ellana's eyes flew open in horror. She struggled against the guards who took her. "Solas!" she yelled. "This is my burden. You promised you wouldn't interfere."

_I made no such promise, my heart. Only that I would save Lavellan._

A guard hit her across the face, and she fell silent. The Wolf growled and marked him for death. A minute later she was gone.

"Tell me of your other way, wolf. Though a trickster cannot be trusted, I find myself curious as to how far you will go."

"The rift is only one method of escape open to you," he said. "Possession is the other. It will disguise you as well. These quick ones are too weak for you to have. But I'm not."

Corypheus sounded thoughtful. "So you would willingly offer yourself as my vessel? What would you gain? Your Inquisitor would only fall to me more quickly when I wore your face."

He shook his head. "I gain her life. She'll be protected. Free of you and your needs." He raised his hand and a flash of Mythal's power cracked through the air. He'd drained her spirit to the point of death protecting Nuriel, but Corypheus couldn't know that. "Though you may touch all of Thedas, you'll never touch her."

"And she will throw your body, and me, back into the Fade, and I will be no farther," said Corypheus, disgusted. "I expected better of you, Fen'Harel."

The Wolf circled. Distract him. No one can see the whole pack at once. "She loves me. Desires this body. Quick ones are sentimental. It, and the memories of me in it, will protect you from her better than any shield."

Careful lies. The magister didn't answer, and the circle was closing. "Why do you think I'm here, though you demanded she come alone? A dream like yours can't be hidden from the one who shares her bed. Especially not one such as me."

"So the lonely wolf has at last taken on a lover." Corypheus sounded amused. "But she doesn't know who you are."

"I find the deception arousing," said Solas, swirling to the fore once more. "She didn't need to know in order to provide what I desired."

"Yet you would sacrifice for her. More than just simple lust."

Then the truth, to sell the lies. The most precious coin, the sort he'd so rarely spent. "Yes. Fen'Harel loves. The Wolf wears his chains at last. If it gives you what you want, does it matter?"

There was a long pause. "Perhaps not. I will consider this. Take him."

Guards grabbed him roughly, and he didn't fight. They led him away from the rift, and he steeled himself for what would come next.

* * *

They threw him bodily into the same cell with Ellana and left. Eyes still watched them, though, of that he was certain. He hated that he'd been right. Corypheus would want to test the truth of his words and see her devotion with his own eyes, or at least the eyes of his followers. Fen'Harel would have to be convincing.

Fortunately it took no effort to take the first steps. The cell was lined with red lyrium, pulsing and hungry, and she sat in the middle of it with her face pressed into her knees. There were pieces on the ground that she'd destroyed with the anchor, but even that held only so much power, and there was too much lyrium to fight. This must be the epicenter of the ancient's essence.

_Peace, my brother_ , he thought and sent his own consciousness out to the walls. It responded slowly to the familiarity of his mind. Dirthamen had been a friend once. An ally. He'd kept the rebellion's secrets close as they'd fought the corrupted Pantheon. He'd been calm and wise. Fen'Harel was glad it was him and not another, more aggressive soul.

Ellana's head lifted. "Solas. The violet light. How do you make the song go away?"

Her voice was thick and confused, and he knelt next to her to lean her against him. She didn't fight his movements, instead curling into his shoulder. He rubbed slow circles on her back and split his soothing between Dirthamen and her until he felt her tension ease. Her voice was clearer the second time she spoke. "I like your song better than the other. It's beautiful."

"As are you," he said.

The tension returned. "Don't. That's not fair."

"I have no desire for fairness. Before a man's death is not the time to be fair."

"You won't die." She tried to pull away, but he held on tightly. He didn't want to see the stubborn set of her jaw. "I don't know what you said to him, but I mean it, Solas. You won't. I won't let you die for me. Corypheus will let us both live if I do what he wants."

"You almost died for me long ago, before I even knew your face. A purposeless death for an arrogant man. At least this sacrifice will mean something." He looked for the right words as he pressed his lips to her hair. "You know better than to believe him. We may live, but only at his whim. To serve him would kill you as quickly as red lyrium. Lavellan would be in danger, always. My way, you will all be safe. You have so much life ahead of you, my love. Let me do this."

"Don't," she said again. "Don't call me that. Don't try to manipulate my feelings."

"As you wish." He paused. Cullen would be no use as an appeal either, now. What could he say to change her heart? "There will be other loves in your future. There can be no more than one man foolish enough to reject you when you truly love him. You'll have a good life with one of them. Accept my choice. Please."

"I don't want another love," she said, her voice raw with tears.

He smiled, painfully, where she couldn't see. "You will. It's inevitable. Don't let grief cloud your sense."

She grumbled and elbowed him. "My sense is perfect. Be quiet. I never stopped being in charge, you know."

He laughed without warning, a sound full of a painful happiness he might never feel again. She laughed reluctantly as well and elbowed him again. He fell backwards and laid on his back in the lyrium-lined cell with her draped across his chest, shaking with terrible mirth, and wondered how much more he could hold.

When they both subsided, it was quiet for a long time. After it stretched out past comfort, she raised her head to look at him questioningly. He looked back at her, smiling, and mimed being unable to speak.

She slapped him gently. "You can talk."

"Thank you, Inquisitor. Though I am at your command, it would be a shame to keep all of my bountiful wisdom to myself."

Rather than offer the sarcastic response he expected, her eyes darkened. "At my command, are you?" The hand across his chest moved slowly, and her fingers trailed down it with the lightest of touches. She never stopped watching his face. "I should take advantage of that."

His mouth ran dry. Automatically, against his will, his hand moved to her ear and brushed the place his lips had grazed a lifetime ago. She arched into his touch with impossible grace while her fingers stilled their movement. And yet her eyes never left him, calling out everything that lived in the dark and forgotten places of his heart. She looked at him not as his prey but as another predator, and she was impossibly powerful.

For the first time since he'd taken on the mantle of rebel he wanted to submit. Fen'Harel, traitor and destroyer and aggressor, rolled over and gave himself to another.

"You should."

He knew the desire was coming from her fear, from her broken heart, from the lyrium song barely supressed, but the triumphant smile that lit her face made him weak. Her hand moved again, this time drifting to the hem of his tunic and lifting it. When it splayed across his bare flesh, he hissed and pressed into her touch. He continued to play with the tip of her ear, slowly, and he was rewarded by her own breathy moan.

She kept moving her hand upwards while she turned her head and pressed a kiss into his palm. He didn't resist the movement, only watched, and she slowly kissed the tip of each of his fingers before briefly taking his index finger into her mouth.

His cock jumped, and he closed his eyes. He whispered her name desperately, and she stopped. She released his hand and moved her lips close to his ear. Her fingers circled his chest. "Do you want me?"

"Yes." _Always._

"Will you leave me unsatisfied?"

"By ancient Arlathan, I hope not," he said.

She laughed into his ear, and he reached around to pull her on top of him. She shifted to straddle him above where he most wanted her, and she showed no signs of moving as she looked down on him. She reached behind her to rub his thigh, so close and so far away from where he wanted her, and smiled wickedly. He arched up again, trying to draw her to him, but she deftly avoided his movements.

He slid his hands from his hips and shimmied them underneath her legs, grasping the hem of shirt while he caressed her. He drew it over his chest and head, leaving him bare underneath her.

Ellana leaned forward to study him, placing both hands on his chest before tracing his collarbone with a light touch. She sighed and bit her lip enticingly, and he rose on his elbows to claim her mouth. She responded fiercely, claiming him in turn. A hand snaked around his head and pulled him closer. Her mouth demanded his tongue. Memories of her in Skyhold, in campsites, in corners of villages too small to have names, threatened to overwhelm him.

He gave her what she wanted and found her hungrier than she'd ever been. She made one perfect little noise into his mouth when he swept it. She tasted even better than he remembered. When they broke for air he smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear and memorized the delight on her face.

Oh yes, Fen'Harel loved.

She sat up suddenly and tugged at the hem of her own shirt, making to pull it off, and he panicked. There were eyes on them. What they were doing was good, not just for him but for what would be seen by the magister, but he didn't want her to expose herself without knowing. When he grabbed her wrists in his hands, stopping her, the uncertainty in her expression cut him deeper than any knife. Some of the desire went out of her, and she shrank back into herself.

"I thought you wanted," she said quietly.

His mind raced, trying to find a way to tell her that he did, that he wanted nothing more than to see her revealed over him, to look at and touch and taste the parts of her he'd imagined since he'd first spoken to her. He was on fire with wanting, but Fen'Harel's caution was too strong.

He released one wrist, finding the delicious join of her hip and circling it soothingly with his thumb, but it was clear that wasn't enough for her trust. He'd pulled back too often in Skyhold.

Her muscles bunched in preparation to roll off of him, out of his grasp, when he felt a subtle feeling of magic settle over them. A familiar feeling. She felt it, too, and looked at him curiously. He didn't respond, trying to place the memory and identify the spell.

_Peace, my brother_ , he heard faintly, like a person whispering from another room. The lyrium flared wildly around them. He gasped. It was dry voice tinged with madness, but familiar for all that. Dirthamen. One of the cloaks he made so well, which sent out only what the wearers wanted the world to see. Ideal for revolutions. Ideal for this.

Fen'Harel twisted his will into it as he had so many times before. Corphyeus's spies would see a gentle love but nothing of her. Nothing of the truth.

_Thank you,_ he answered. He smiled back up at Ellana, still studying him. "I do. I want to do it myself." He gripped her tunic and pulled it over her head more quickly than he'd intended. The band underneath came off just as quickly, and he lost his reason staring at her. No desire demon could ever come close to her beauty. Demons were so perfect as to be unreal. She was real, beautifully and wonderfully real, and all the more perfect because of it. His hands drifted up her ribs to brush the undersides of her breasts gently. She made a noise of encouragement, and he roved higher until she closed her eyes.

More hair had escaped from the loose braid she wore, falling around her shoulders in small waves. She reached behind her, eyes still closed, and untied the rest with agonizing slowness. Her chest shifted and danced underneath his fingers. He felt himself hardening further, more desperate than he'd been in years. He was still wearing his leggings, she was only half uncovered, and he was close to begging

When the soft cloud settled around her face, wild and tempting, he couldn't stop himself any longer. He rolled his hips, trying to draw her lower, and fumbled at the ties of her leggings.

"Please," he said in a low voice. "Please, I need you."

She shivered at his words but moved down obediently. When she rubbed against his length he cried out, then gritted his teeth. She leaned back down to kiss him again, this time gently and sweetly in contrast to the movement of her hips. "Do you like that, Solas?"

He winced at the name on her lips, but he didn't stop kissing her. She sensed it anyway and pulled back to look at him. "What?"

Her eyes demanded honesty, but he still kept himself as hidden as he could. "Just the name. It's not a pleasant one for me, here."

"What should I call you, then, if not your name?" she asked teasingly.

He had no answer for her. None of the names she knew were worthwhile and all of the ones he wanted to hear from her would never be known.

She stopped moving against him and smiled. "Master? Teacher? Friend? I can't go farther until I have the right mode of address."

"No. None of those. Solas is fine," he said. He didn't care. He just wanted her. "Don't stop."

She reached down and drew off his leggings, freeing him and leaving him gasping. He kicked them away, then pulled down her own, along with her smallclothes. She hovered over him, but there was no teasing in her face now. Her amber eyes studied him seriously, with the tiniest flicker of sadness inside. "My heart, then?"

His mind was still clouded with need, but his heart contracted painfully in his chest. She accepted his choice. Accepted him and his weakness, here in the end, and she would allow him to believe the lie, just this once.

This gift that she gave him could never be repaid.

"Yes," he whispered. Tears welled in his eyes as she nodded and traced his face with her finger.

"Then take me, my heart."

She lowered herself to him slowly, and when she slid him inside of her he struggled to breathe. His hands grabbed her waist and held her still as he fought for control. He didn't want this to end so quickly.

She obliged, watching him with satisfaction. When he was calmer again, he smiled up at her contented face, wondering if there had ever been a moment so perfect. "You're more beautiful than Arlathan, Ellana Lavellan. You put its crystal spires to shame."

She leaned back down and pressed her lips to his. At the same time she began to move, slowly and steadily, until he forgot the rest and lost himself in their pleasure. They came together cloaked in ancient shadows and when they crested, the only words that tumbled from his lips were love.


	14. Protection

He stayed awake through the rising dawn as it cast its quiet light into the ravine alongside them. Ellana slept and he watched, shielding her eyes from the rays that would wake her too soon. He wept at the peace on her face and made no attempt to hide his grief. The spell that had hidden them was faded and past, and guards outside stared at them without shame. Corypheus would know and believe.

The trapped magister would send for him, before the Inquisition sent forces to find their leader. Soon enough it would be time for Solas to return, to provide the wave of arrogance he needed. Solas belonged to no one and was braver for it. Pride was the tool for this work.

But for now, Fen'Harel watched the woman who owned his soul and felt all the aching fear that love invited into a heart.

_She'll be safe,_ he thought with a certainty he didn't wholly possess. _Won't she?_   Dirthamen's spirt slumbered as well, weak and faded, and the lyrium's taint was likely rising around them again. Ellana would need to be strong.

But she was. Her spirit was wise and generous, kind enough to gift a night of love to a traitor who deserved nothing kind. _If the Pantheon had been like her…_

At the thought she stirred and stretched beside him. He'd never seen her wake before, the way she blinked her eyes in confusion at the world, or the way she fought the true opening of her eyes until the last minute. He was grateful for this last first of hers.

She focused on him and smiled uncertainly. "I never thought I'd be so happy to wake up a prisoner in a Venatori camp," she said. Exhaustion roughened her voice, dropping it to a gravelly rumble that had him shivering anew. She tilted her head. "I thought it was a dream."

"No. No dream." He brushed his hand over her hair and gathered the power he'd taken from Mythal into his hands. So little remaining, but enough for this. One more kiss, to pay for all. He leaned closer, close enough to feel her lashes on his cheek. "Thank you, my love. Be safe."

Her eyes widened in alarm, but his lips were already on hers, rough and strong. He wrapped Mythal's protections around her swiftly. The last of the power channeled through his mouth into her, and he heard her gasp when it hit her tongue. She tried to tear herself away, but he held fast until it was gone.

He pulled away and felt a little emptier inside, whether from the loss of power or the hurt in her eyes he didn't know. It didn't matter. Fen'Harel gave way to Solas, and he rolled over and stood.

"What did you do?" she demanded. She struggled up, then fell back dizzily. "Did you give me your magic?"

"Not mine. Another's. It will protect you when I'm gone."

"No," she said. "You can't." She tried to reach for him with the anchor, with her barriers, but the mix of magic inside of her prevented her from doing whatever she was attempting.

Solas ignored the tingles of the Fade that danced around him. _You will be strong,_ said the pride demon.

At a noise, he looked to the door of the cage. The Venatori had returned. They opened it when he walked over, and he turned back with his fingers on the handle. "Sleep," he whispered and curled a touch of power towards her. Her eyes drifted shut, and he left her to her dreams.

* * *

Ellana slept, but she didn't want to be sleeping. She didn't know why she needed to be awake, but she pounded on the stubbornly solid Veil with all her might. The anchor didn't work. Nothing worked, and she was a prisoner in a world that was the wrong place to be. Every instinct in her screamed for escape.

A demon whispered behind her, "Cassandra died."She ignored it, but it kept speaking. "Complications. You missed a vein. There was nothing that could be done. Cullen grieves."

She fought with the anchor again, trying to work it past the sudden blocks inside of her.

"The Inquisition rages at you. You abandoned them and their cause to die. You attacked your own men. You're no leader. You will always fail them, daughter of Lavellan. You lose yourself so easily. Wanted nowhere. No one's choice."

"Be quiet."

"Your sister was caught again at the edge of the camp. They killed her this time. She cried your name at the end. She would have lived if you'd let Solas love her instead of blocking them at every step. Selfish child, needing everything for yourself."

Solas. He'd done this. He'd trapped her here. He was in danger. But he loved her. Hadn't he said so?

"So simple. So gullible. He laughed as you fell into his trap and opened yourself to him again. He knows the desperation of you. A silly girl who will never learn her own lessons. As if you could be loved by one such as him."

"No. It happened. It was real." Hadn't it been? Words of love. Actions of betrayal.

She whirled around to stare at the demon. It wasn't desire this time, but fear. "Why are you here?"

"I feed well where love resides. You're full of me. I can take it all away. I can release you from your burdens."

And then it was Cullen again, speaking the words of Tranquility over her. He wanted her to kneel, and it would all leave. She could be at peace. She felt her legs buckling against her will.

_Oh Creators, help me. Help him. Please._ She prayed dumbly, without thought, closer and closer to the demon's hungry smile on her Commander's face.

And then there was another voice, streaked with the red fog of lyrium. It said words she didn't understand, but it rumbled through the Fade with a power that even the fear demon would bow to.

Fear turned back into itself and shook angrily. "You have no place here, ancient one."

The voice rolled across them again, scratchy and blurred by pain. "I have a place wherever I'm called, smalling. You are only a shadow of secrets. Leave this one. She is protected."

The demon disappeared, muttering, and Ellana sighed in relief. She was herself again and very angry. "Who called you here? Who are you? Are you the power Solas gave me?"

A hole in the Veil opened behind her. "Step into yourself. This is not an easy reach to make, even with borrowed power."

She didn't trust the voice, lyrium-lined and possessed, but she wanted to be back in the world too much to hesitate. She found herself easily enough and sat up in her cage with only a small dizzy spell. By the look of the light, a half an hour had passed. "Who are you?" she asked again.

There was no one with her, not even a guard, but a voice answered anyway. _Dirthamen. You summoned me, child of light. Fen'Harel gave me much. I return it. Your spirit can show you._

"Dirthamen? Keeper of Secrets? You're a god?" She spun madly, asking her questions to the air. "The Wolf is here? How do I stop him? And who's my spirit?"

"I am," said Cole. She nearly fell over when she spun around a final time, and Cole looked at her gravely. "I'm a spirit and a man and you are the Inquisitor. We are all yours."

"Cole! How did you get in here? Where's Nuriel?"

"Safe and scared. She is like you, but Varric makes her smile. The Inquisition is coming for you."

He held out his hand to her, and she took it in confusion. "Solas hurts. He needs you. The door is open."

* * *

They walked through the camp in full view of the Venatori, but they took no notice of either of them. "Are you hiding me?" she whispered.

Cole laughed brightly, and she looked around nervously. "No. They don't see me because I am me, but you are protected. You are a god and a goddess now, Ellana Lavellan. Her ancient hurt is inside of you, shielding and keeping, but it is a hurt that will be lost without my help."

"I don't understand."

"The fall of Arlathan, a phoenix dying all around her. Crashing, crushing, nowhere to go. An angry, human woman in need of protection. She was a quick one, hard enough to survive, like a pond that's all ice. Mythal takes her. She dies and lives in each breath the woman takes. And now the goddess dies so you may live."

"I still don't understand. What does Mythal have to do with anything? Was she there with Dirthamen?"

He didn't answer as they drew up to the place where the tear in the Veil waited. Solas knelt on the ground in front of it, but there was no subservience in his lines, only grief, though guards surrounded him.

He looked tired. He looked defeated. He looked like a man who was going to his death. So he was still going to leave her after he'd accepted her fragile love. What he'd claimed to feel for her hadn't been enough. The demon had been right, and she was a fool.

Ellana clenched her fists. So she would save him. And then she would kill him herself.

Solas's voice carried clearly to where she and Cole listened. "The Inquisition will come. Time isn't endless."

"It's long enough. I would know your heart," said Corypheus. "Do you still desire the return of Arlathan?"

"Yes. But I failed. We failed. The Golden City is still corrupted, the skeletons still sit on its thrones, and their power will never return without the _foci_. The spirits who lived there, the true ancients, were the only ones with the skill to restore what was lost. If Arlathan's perfection cannot be returned, then what place is there for me? Let the Inquisitor make what world she can. I don't wish to see it. I only wish her to be alive to create it. As the old Maker did, so long ago, when you were born of his dreams."

"Fen'Harel, giving up? I don't believe you. The Dread Wolf never runs out of tricks to play on the world."

Her heart stopped. She watched his face carefully, looking for outrage. For denial. Even for laughter. There was nothing but the same exhaustion that was already there. She shook her head. Something was missing she didn't understand. Solas was Solas. The Dread Wolf was a nightmare that had slaughtered them all.

"Rebellion cannot live forever. Even a wolf sleeps. Be a god if you wish, magister. You'll find service to so many a wearying experience."

"Gods don't serve. They are served."

Solas laughed, and she believed, in a rush of understanding too sharp to deny. It was the barking laugh of a wolf, a hint of snarl underneath the surface. A predator's sound. Anger and hunger in equal measure. She remembered all of the times he'd watched her, the way his eyes had followed her in the camp, the coiled muscles under the surface of his skin. She was revolted. She was aroused. She was confused. She didn't know what she was.

But she did know that Solas, for all he'd hurt her endlessly, wasn't evil or a nightmare. He was simply a liar. And why not? Tricksters usually were.

"Elgar'nan thought he didn't need to serve, either," said Fen'Harel with Solas's face. "He learned differently. The world will always demand its price of divinity. Andraste died for daring to ascend. Sylaise fell to sword cuts too quick for her to heal. The Maker's mind crumbled to dust on his Golden Throne. Madness was his reward for forgetting that gods serve."

"My world will not be that way," said the magister.

There was no answer, and Ellana's stomach twisted at the thought of Sylaise's destruction.

"Besides, you no longer serve, little god," Corypheus continued. "What does that make you?"

"I thought there were none worthy of my service. I was too proud to offer it honestly. I was wrong. There was one. And this will be my price for forsaking her."

Corypheus laughed. "A god with one worshipper. One who doesn't know who she worships, for all her bare face is yours."

"As it should be. There is no space for worship in her destiny. She will be the true god of the new world. And she never forgets to serve." Solas sighed. "Do you understand my heart now, old friend? I see you will not heed my warning. Much like all those years ago, when the Fade-touched city blackened under your anger, and the elves and mages scattered to the winds of history. If you will not listen, please, make an end. My body is yours to take. Do it quickly."

"To possess an ancient elf is no easy matter, Fen'Harel."

Ellana gasped. Possession? By Corypheus? There would be no return from that.

The magister's voice sharpened. "Yes, his offer is quite a shock, I imagine. Eavesdropping really does lead to so many surprises, doesn't it Inquisitor? Take her."

Then there were too many people around her, and she had no time to move. Solas turned towards her, face horrified as guards circled, pointing weapons at her unerringly. He was restrained instantly, both physically and magically. The mages began to mutter their Tevene spells, and unfamiliar magic swirled around her and stripped away her shadows. Cole slipped between them, and they still didn't see him. Only her shield had failed, and yet they didn't touch her. She tried to be brave and still.

"Did you think I didn't sense you, Inquisitor? The power you carry was meant to be mine. I would know it anywhere." Corypheus chuckled. "You see your choice. My bargain holds. Release me. Leave. Never return. You can have your toothless wolf, for what good his soul will do you."

Solas struggled in the grasp of the mages holding him. "No! Leave! You can't be hurt. Tell the Inquisition of this, and then go far away. Give your protection to your family." His voice begged her, though his words were only command. "Listen to me, just one time. Don't waste your life on me."

She could almost hear his thoughts. He had a plan. Whatever he was doing was a trick, something that would end Corypheus.

But it would also end him.

He didn't need to think the last for her to know it was true, and she felt calm fill her. Ellana didn't see everything, but she saw enough for a choice. She'd taken his markings, which were the markings of none. She'd taken his body into her own and loved. She'd trusted him when she shouldn't, and she would trust him again when she should. He was hers.

Dirthamen came when she called. Mythal protected her. The Dread Wolf had twisted her path away from what had been laid in front of her, and the gods had been closer to her steps than they'd ever been on the straight path. She would have faith in him, and they would serve each other.

Ellana stepped forward and raised her hand. As at the abduction scene, the rift grabbed at her greedily, but this time she was prepared. Slow, controlled power flowed through her, opening the tear wider. Solas snapped and snarled in front of her, the feral nature of his godhood rising to the fore, but she wasn't afraid of him. He only wanted to protect her.

She would protect him. He would submit.

A body reached through the hole in the air. It was a familiar, twisted shape, and that she wasn't ready for. The power in her hand started to flare, and the Venatori shouted as the ravine lit up. They fired spells off, and she risked one quick glance behind her to see if they were aiming at her. Instead she saw the combined forces of the Inquisition, Cullen at their head, rushing down to meet the enemy. Her attention wavered, and the rift contracted, sucking the power out of her too quickly to grow correctly.

The magister cried out and cursed at her as the rift shrank. The air crackled as his essence roiled around them. Solas suddenly stopped fighting and fell to the ground as the mages released him. His hands went to his head in agony, but he watched her with accepting eyes. They changed as she watched, losing the violent tint she loved, and she screamed.

"No!" Her hands thrust out again, this time with any power she could summon. A blast of fire burned the air around him, disrupting Corypheus's efforts and singeing Solas's robes despite her efforts at control. The rift magic joined with it, bubbling the air, and a surge of protection magic rattled her teeth. There was too much power in her, too much to carry, and she was slipping.

At the same time Col returned, grabbing her arm and adding his own compassion to the sending, fracturing the scene into even more pieces.

But then nothing else mattered, because the lyrium song was back, and it was as loud as it had ever been. It broke her concentration utterly, but it didn't seem to want her to bow to it. Instead it strengthened her resolve and poured more power into her.

_Release me_ , Dirthamen ordered. _Without my power, he will be nothing._

An image rose to her mind of the lyrium-lined cell, and she concentrated. The cell was weakening as the power it contained entered her own mind, and she turned it back on itself viciously.

The cell exploded. Dirthamen's song vanished. Corypheus screamed in fury, still halfway through the Veil, and made one last attempt at Solas's mind.

She drained herself completely to throw her strongest shield around the shaking elf, past the point of her mana reserves. Cole fragmented the world again, sending her spinning into a hundred directions. The last thing she saw before she passed out was Iron Bull bearing down on them all. The last thing she heard was Cole commanding, "Forget."


	15. Sharing

"Arlathan was the city of spires. Buildings wrapped around trees to the heavens, curving into infinity to dance among the clouds. The elves were wise and good, and Elvhenan prospered under their endless rule. Magic twined in their lives like hair through a lover's fingers, and they treated it just as delicately. Emotions and passions lived side by side with reason and logic. For thousands of years the kingdom lived in a perfect peace.

"Then came Elgar'nan, the Father, who craved the hidden knowledge of the Beyond and the golden light of the city in its lands. Arlathan's light was crystalline and soft, but the golden glow held power that even the elves could not yet work. The Creators lived in that city, the rulers of our universe, and they kept the balance necessary for the world to spin properly. They were divided and unknowable, and the Father desired them above all else.

"He succeeded in his aims and learned the path to the city that should never have been found. He whispered to the Creators in dreams, and they slowly turned away from the world towards his seductions.

"The balance fell. The world of passionate dreams separated from the logical world of elves, and emotions grew cold and bitter so far away from the life they needed to stay gentle. Magic no longer breathed as it had, so Elgar'nan tapped these spirits ruthlessly through the Veil for their power. In time, he became one of the only ones who could.

"The elves still prospered but the peace was no longer perfect. The immortality they enjoyed faded as Thedas tipped and wobbled through its new course.

"Eventually one Creator, the Maker of Life, grew mad with the whispers that echoed in his home, and he pulled the spirits from the center of Arlathan and walled off the Beyond from Elgar'nan's use. Those spirits fled north and took the new form of humanity, quick and full of temper. They conquered all the lands they touched. Their magic was even stronger than the elves', for they had no need to borrow it as it lived inside of them. Imperial magisters rose and looked towards Elvhenan, with its prosperous people and its bodies that lived forever.

"Of course, they no longer did in truth. Only the ancient ones, the ones in the walled-off center of Arlathan, had learned a new method of immortality. They cultivated servants, stole the most beautiful bodies, bled them of their power, and lived the lives of gods. The Creators in the Golden City withdrew further from the knowledge of the world, and the ancient elves took their mantles for themselves as the generations turned. Their people worshipped them and walked in awe of their stolen powers.

"But Elgar'nan still dreamed of returning to the Beyond and ruling the Golden City, and he worked ceaselessly towards this goal. A boy named Fen'Harel, proud and foolish, held the key to shaping the world of dreams, and he offered himself in ignorance to the gods as their tool. He would have given them all they desired, had they but acted in caution. But Elgar'nan was too eager, trusted his glamour too much, and Fen'Harel learned the true nature of Arlathan.

"He turned his power against the gods and waged bloody war with the Pantheon to free his brethren from their false worship. Some joined him. Others died. Several of their ranks changed shape, into dragons or humans or demons, to save themselves from destruction. A few scattered into the earth to live out their half-deaths. They slept in living stone, angry and bitter, infecting any creatures unwise enough to linger in their presence. The most powerful of all were banished to pockets of the Fade inaccessible to any but the true Creators.

"The Maker gifted Fen'Harel with the power of the Wolf. He became the Dread Wolf of nightmares, and he ruled broken Arlathan for a time.

"At long last the quick ones came, full of war, but Fen'Harel treated with them for peace. The magisters were interested in his power over the Beyond, and they worked with him to find a way to enter the City themselves. Fen'Harel desired their blessings to restore Arlathan to the perfection it once held. The magisters desired the knowledge of the true ancients.

"This peace lasted for ten years. When they at last gained access and stepped through the gates of the City, they heard only silence. Twisted skeletons waited in the courtyard, and everywhere within was empty and dark. The golden light was faded, only one throne left thrumming with power, and the Maker of Life sat upon it gibbering madly. A magister, enraged, killed him where he sat, and so Corypheus brought his doom upon the world.

"The elves and magisters fell to fighting, and they scattered across the earth. When they settled, their people were broken beyond repair. The magisters now needed the Fade for magic, the elves were slaves and dead, and nothing remained to be perfect. Prayers floated through the air with none to hear them. Fen'Harel died. The Wolf slumbered. Solas rose. And he swore to make a new world from the ashes of the old."

* * *

Ellana listened in haunted silence to the story spilling over her. Solas's voice. He sounded empty and lost.

He sounded as she felt.

She looked around her and wondered where she was this time. The ravine was gone, replaced by the darkness of a grey forest. Roots tangled around dead trees, and the limbs created twisted shapes in the sky. The true Fade looked nothing like this, and neither did her dreams. There was nothing else around her.

Nothing but Cole. He sat up beside her and rubbed his face, then answered the question she hadn't asked. "This is his mind."

"Why are we here?"

"To end his pain."

 _It's so cold_. "How do we help him?"

"Find him." The spirit took her hand again and led her down a path that was less path than a place where the tangles had yet to grow. Where the underbrush touched her it curled away into itself.

Cole looked back at her. "It fears you. You are the only real thing here."

"If this is Solas, he should fear me," she said. "He has much to explain."

Cole nodded but said nothing. They stepped into a small clearing and blinked against the sudden brightness. This was a place of joy instead of death. When her eyes adjusted, she looked around and realized it was the clearing they'd visited the night he'd taken her slave markings away. _Sylaise died,_ she thought, and shivered.

Three figures sat in the clearing. One sprang up at her approach. It was Solas in body, but more alive than he'd ever been. He was raw desire, power without ending, and he watched her with eyes that wanted. She remembered the feeling of him under her, the sounds he'd made when she brought him to the edge, and she let out a small gasp. He smiled hotly and stepped a careful pace towards her. She leaned forward involuntarily, swaying into his movement, and there was satisfaction on his face when she bit her lip.

She tore her gaze away from him with effort. The second figure was squat and ugly, glaring at her with eyes that hated. Corypheus. Or what remained of his power, riding inside her lover's mind. She wanted to strike him, but she was afraid of hurting Solas, so she turned away.

The third commanded all of her attention. The body of a wolf lay panting in the grass, larger than any she'd ever seen, speaking the story of the elves over and over again in terrible grief. This was Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf, and he was dying. She was meant to save him. And yet she hesitated. Would the world be safe if the Wolf walked through it again? He'd destroyed gods, by his own words. He'd invited Corypheus and caused a new war. The small citizens of Thedas, her people, stood no chance against him.

The wolf's eyes opened slowly and fixed their gaze on her. They were violet and feral. There was no gentleness in them, only death, but she felt no fear. "Wise child," it said. "My chain was given to one with worth. Please, let me slip away from this place."

She knelt next to the body and ran her fingers through the fur in comfort. It didn't resist, though the wolf whined when she brushed over a burn on its flank. She recognized the feeling of her magic in the injury and murmured an apology. "If you leave, what will happen to Solas?"

"He will die," said Corypheus.

Ellana looked to the wolf for a denial, but there was none.

"It's time," said Cole. "End his pain." At the same time his voice, larger and farther away, called over the forest, "Forget."

She tightened her grip in the wolf's fur and didn't acknowledge him. "And if I refuse?" There was no answer. "How do I heal you? How do I bring him back?"

Arms snaked around her, hot and strong, and Solas's voice breathed in her ear. "Don't heal this creature. I won't die. His spirit is old and weak, but I'm not." He planted kisses down her throat, biting her shoulder softly when she tried to move. He drew her away from the wolf and gripped her against his chest. "He made me leave you. His caution caused you pain. I never will. I'm enough for you. I will always be enough. We'll never be apart again."

She melted under his words and the urgent pressure of his mouth. She twisted her head to find his lips with her own, and he was rough and powerful and deliciously commanding. He'd been passive with her before, letting her dictate the tempo, but there was nothing passive now. He tangled his fingers in her hair and held her in place while he bruised her lips with the force of his own. Her hands were trapped in front of her, and she squirmed with the need to touch him. He growled laughter and denied her movement until she stopped fighting him.

When she was limp and compliant in his arms, he pulled away and rubbed her swollen mouth with his thumb. "This is what will always be. My need for you will never cease, Ellana Lavellan. End his pain. Let me come to you again."

Her will drowned in the desire he'd planted in her, so much larger than herself, and she couldn't deny him. When she stretched out her hand to do as he said, fire gathered at the tips of her fingers hotter than any that lived inside her in the real world.

Solas whispered encouraging words, promised dark pleasures that made her whimper, but just before she touched the fur underneath her hand, Corypheus spoke. "He lies. Only the magic of the Dread Wolf is keeping the end at bay. He wishes you to destroy it."

His voice cut through her haze, and she drew back. Cole snarled at the small figure beneath him. "You only wish to preserve yourself, magister. Your counsel has no value."

Ellana blinked again and tried to focus. Cole's voice was rarely so angry. As she fought to reclaim her will, the voice came again from high above. "Forget. Inquisitor, forget. It's not working. She's not coming back. I'm not helping." Other voices, soothing but indistinct, floated through the trees.

"This isn't right," she murmured. Cole was outside of her. He was trying to help. The Cole in front of her was pacing, impatient, angry. "You're not right." The fire drew back into her body.

Solas hissed behind her, but when he tried to grab her again she found the strength to throw him off. She rolled away and stood, breathing heavily. With clearer eyes she could see the pose, see the things about him that were her own invention rather than the reality. "You're a demon. This is the Fade. This is a trick."

The figure that wasn't Corypheus shook its head. "Not the Fade. A mind. Not a demon. A magister. Corypheus wishes you to empty this body so he may claim it. He has tried himself, but the Wolf only follows your commands now."

She stared at the figure shaped like Solas, stomach twisting. Had that been Corypheus's hands on her, his mouth fluttering desire inside of her? She blinked hard against the bile.

"Don't listen to him. He'll say anything," said Cole's figure, but it was faint and far away. Her attention was on the small and ugly creature in front of her. He clearly held little hope that she would believe him, but still he spoke earnestly. So familiarly. He was a person she trusted, even though she shouldn't. A friend wearing the face of an enemy. An enemy who was always a friend.

"What should I do?" she asked him.

"Make your choice, Inquisitor. I have no right to decide your path for you."

She almost asked again, terrified of the gravity of the moment, but the ugly figured closed its eyes, and she knew there would be no other answers.

Instead, her mouth moved in silent prayers to the gods she now knew were real. Sylaise and Dirthamen and Mythal and Andruil. They had shaped her past. Her last prayer was to the Dread Wolf who'd carved the shape of her future, and the panting figure on the ground looked at her with as much surprise as a wolf could muster.

When the final word faded, she struck out with the impossible fire that waited inside of her. Solas and Cole fell, screaming in Corypheus's voice. The forest exploded around her in green shoots, taking the coldness away, and the bodies fell into ash that would never reform. A pressure lifted from her mind, so heavy that she hadn't even realized it was there.

When she looked back to the newly lush grass, the wolf was still dying.

Ellana knelt to it desperately. She reached for healing magic and found nothing inside, then ran her hands over it again, trying to coax life. "Why didn't that save you? Please. I don't want Solas to die. He has to explain so much to me. I have to see him again. Please." Her voice hitched. "I love him. I command you to help him."

"Solas is beyond your help," it said sadly.

"He burned himself out keeping Corypheus contained. Keeping the two of us alive in this place," said a new voice behind her. She turned warily. Where the hateful form of Corypheus had sat before, an elf watched her. He wore his hair long, almost as long as hers, and his face was so young, but the eyes were the same as the man she knew.

"The two of us? Me and you?" she asked.

"No. The Dread Wolf and me." He looked away. "I'm Fen'Harel."

She looked at them both in confusion. "I thought they were the same. The Dread Wolf is Fen'Harel."

"The Wolf was gifted to me. But I existed long before that. I didn't need him to defeat the oppressors."

A slight touch of arrogance lifted his lips, and her heart turned over. It was Solas's expression, echoed in lines that tore at her soul.

His fingers wound together. "I'm sorry I brought Solas back into your life. He wanted you, in physical ways, but he would have been content to leave your side forever. I overruled him. I was weak. I steered him to your Clan again. I caused you the pain you feel now."

Certainty settled around her. "But you also caused the love, didn't you? It was never Solas in Skyhold. Or last night. It was you. Your… spirit."

The elf flushed. "Solas was a piece of me. I sharpened him and set him apart and let him attempt to fulfill my desires. I didn't have the strength to make the hard decisions that he could. And once I did so, I had little control over his actions. It was him in Skyhold, in the world, most of the time." He gazed at her steadily and sighed. "But yes, not always with you. You were too tempting. You almost tore apart my purpose. You almost tore Solas away from me. I wish you had."

Before she could answer, a louder whisper rumbled through the woods. "Forget," it said insistently. She felt her mind starting to blank and struggled to hold on.

Fen'Harel crossed the clearing to kneel next to her. "Time grows short. You must let the Dread Wolf slip away."

"But Solas's body will die. Your body."

"Yes and no. Death is only perspective. The body will live for years. But it will no longer be immortal, and so yes, it will die."

"Will you die with it?"

"When the time comes."

"But you're a god," she said.

He smiled sadly. "There are no gods. There never were. Just people with power who made worlds they couldn't control. The only divine part of me is this friend that's dying now, and I don't want it anymore. The responsibility of a new world is yours, Inquisitor. I'll fade away at last."

Fen'Harel bowed his head in acceptance, but she felt none for herself. Before his eyes were hidden from her, she'd seen a blazing look in them that echoed so strongly in her that she almost cried out. He would not fade away without her.

"Come to Skyhold," she said. She touched his face and laughed lightly. "I'd like to learn more about this man I love."

"What about the Commander? Cullen," he said, as though he were fighting to remember the name.

She threw him a puzzled glance. "That was never real. I made it up. I told Solas so."

"He didn't seem to think it was false."

"It was," she said. She flushed and looked away. "I wanted to make him jealous. You jealous. I wanted to hurt you. But it ended up hurting everyone. I thought he understood."

"No, but his arrogance was always dangerous that way. He had little capacity for re-evaluating a situation. Though he would have been pleased to know you were so within his control, to act out a lie for his benefit. I admit I'm pleased at the falsehood for a very different reason," he said. He ran his hands over the wolf's fur underneath him. "So long, my friend. I'm sorry I did not do you the justice your spirit deserved."

"You used my claws to tear the wicked, my teeth to bite the oppressors, and my strength to defend what was good. It was a worthy life, Fen'Harel, child of light. I thank you for it."

Tears ran down Fen'Harel's face and matted the fur beneath his fingers. She laced her fingers into his and leaned down to the wolf's ear. "Thank you for guiding me back to this. To him. I know it was you."

"Tricksters play in the light as well as the dark," it said.

She smiled. "I release you, as you desire. Rest in gentle dreams."

The animal released one final, lengthy breath and fell still. The forest around them faded away, Fen'Harel vanished, and she felt herself drawn back into her body.

* * *

Fen'Harel woke on a cot very far away from the Venatori camp and struggled to sit up against hands that restrained him. He focused, sorted through the memories that were harder to retrieve now that Solas was gone. His strength was so much lesser now that he was alone. He felt himself dying in slow pieces and wondered how the rest of them stood it.

A memory surfaced. Varric. "Let me up," he said with more heat than he intended. He forced his eyes open to est on a face full of thunder.

"You're lucky you're not in a cell, Chuckles. Don't push it."

"I want to see her." The dwarf's expression didn't change. "Please. I have to know she's okay. I'll become your prisoner after, if you wish."

Varric looked surprised. "Never thought I'd hear you willing to trade your freedom for anything. Where's the real Solas?"

He flushed but looked back without fear. "Love changes a man."

"I'll say. Well, roll over then. She's on the next cot over."

The cot creaked as he spun over quickly. She was breathing peacefully, not injured in any way he could see. He sighed in relief and reached out to touch her hand. As soon as his fingers brushed her, she opened her eyes and stared at him in shock.

His heart sank as her face filled with mistrust. He remembered Cole's voice, commanding her to forget, and wondered how much of her love had been taken by compassion.


	16. Kindness

Over the next few days it became clear to Fen'Harel how much, and how little, she'd forgotten. She knew of Corypheus. She knew her sister was safe - she kept Nuriel with her always, and they wept unreservedly over their brother. She remembered the Venatori camp, the lyrium temptation, and the cell they'd been placed in.

But Cole had taken away all her knowledge of the ancient elves, the ones she thought were gods, to bring her back unscarred by the lyrium she'd destroyed with Dirthamen's power. Cole believed the memory of it would drive her mad, and Fen'Harel wouldn't take that risk, no matter what the cost to him.

Ellana didn't remember how Nuriel had been protected. She didn't remember anything that had happened in his mind, or how she'd destroyed Corypheus and set the Dread Wolf free. She didn't remember the protections from Mythal that resided inside of her, sleeping. And, most painfully of all, she didn't remember his love, which he'd only given to her under the shadow of Dirthamen's secrets. She only remembered that he'd stilled her hands from continuing, that he'd pulled away again. She thought he'd left her alone in the cell as she slept, abandoning her for his own ends.

She was still herself. Her mind was whole, and her spirit unbroken. For that he was grateful. But his gratitude could only live in distance. Ellana kept him away from her as much as possible and never looked at him with any warmth. When she did spare him a glance, he saw expectation in her eyes. She was waiting for him to leave for good.

He thought about it. He went to the woods and listened to the howls of the wolves who were no longer his brothers. He laid awake and sleepless in his tent, avoiding the Fade and the spirits that would counsel him to embrace dangerous emotions.

Fen'Harel considered running. But in the end, he had nowhere to go, and so he stayed.

* * *

The rest of the Inquisition was no more forgiving. Cullen and Cassandra considered him barely more than a traitor for allowing Ellana to go at all. It was an irony Solas would have enjoyed more than he did. When he put her in danger, they didn't notice. When he tried to save her, they condemned him.

Iron Bull and the Chargers had no patience for him, and he didn't blame them. Sometimes it was hard to remember the things that Solas had done, but the memory of their conversation was strong, stronger than the rest. He'd promised the Qunari he could control himself, that she wouldn't get hurt. He'd failed.

Solas had failed at many things, but Fen'Harel knew, shamefully, that this particular promise had come from his true spirit, the one that had slipped more and more often through the cracks since the Inquisition had formed. Especially once he seen her again in Lavellan. This broken promise was a charge he couldn't rest at pride's feet.

Only Varric and Cole treated him as though he belonged. He found himself spending more and more time with them in between their raids to eliminate the last of the Venatori. He never fought alongside Ellana, but he was still allowed to be useful, and it was a relief to remove the last of the humans who worshipped that hateful traitor. The lyrium they'd grown was dead, vaporized from whatever Ellana had done that was so dangerous to herself. They had little trouble breaking the stuff to pieces even without the anchor's help.

He both celebrated and mourned Dirthamen's freedom. The elf deserved peace. He'd been a strong friend, throwing off centuries of pain and anger to aid them. He may have saved her life. But he would have understood the loss that Fen'Harel felt, one of the last who would have. The knowledge of his looming mortality was an ache in his heart that couldn't be shared. Cole saw it but didn't truly feel it.

No one did.

Fen'Harel asked Varric once, over lunch, why he was risking the Inquisitor's wrath by associating with him. It was clear that the dwarf was falling out of favor with the rest of the group due to his magnanimity. "I'm not worth it," he said. "Don't lose your friendships for me."

"I'm not going to lose anything. I'll win them over again eventually. I always do. Don't worry about it."

"But why even bother with me?"

Varric chuckled. "It's good to know you're still to the point. A tactful Solas would be terrifying." The dwarf shrugged slightly. "That aside, you're not the same, not really. Something's different about you. I watched you wake up. Before, you'd have been imperiously ordering us around before your eyes were fully open. And sure, there was some of that. But you said please. You almost begged. Whatever happened with the scary magister, it made you better."

He took a drink from the mug of ale in front of him. "And I don't care what the Inquisitor remembers, if you didn't finally sleep together I'm a nug's uncle. She thinks you rejected her, but I see the way you look at her now. Something happened. And not the kind of something that only one person was looking for, either. I mean something real."

Fen'Harel scratched at the table. "She told you about it?" He grimaced, feeling unclean. He knew he hadn't taken advantage of her, that she'd given herself to him freely with even more love than he'd realized at the time. But to carry those memories of her without her knowledge felt similar enough to chafe.

"I dragged it out of her. Said we needed to know to pay out on the book we were keeping. She swore at me, but she told me." Varric smiled. "Of course, if I'm right, the whole thing is invalid anyway. You gonna tell me what she can't?"

"If she doesn't remember, it's not right for me to speak."

"That's good enough for me. I'll make sure the bets are quietly returned. In consideration for her feelings, I'll tell them." The dwarf paused and continued on in a lower voice. "Hey, Chuckles. You know when Cole wanted to be bound, and I tried to convince the Inquisitor to let him be more human?"

He didn't remember, not really, but he nodded anyway.

"You were your usual overbearing self, of course, pushing for what you thought was best. And she listened to you. She always listened to you," he added under his breath. He continued more loudly. "The kid's missing out on a lot now, for all he knows. Nuriel's been cuddling up to her savior ever since she got back, but he doesn't really notice. It's a shame, really, all he's not going to experience because of it."

"I suppose. But spirits aren't meant to live in this world. It's confusing for them to take on the more visceral aspects of humanity. It doesn't turn out well if it goes too far." Fen'Harel thought back to those ancient magisters, so full of emotion and so utterly lacking in the sense to tame it.

"So you said. I don't agree. But that's not my point. My point is, you used to be an awful lot like him. Now, you're not. Whatever changed you made you a lot more like a person. Stripped away a layer of that hard coating around your heart."

Varric looked towards Ellana, who was just entering the mess area. "People who are real sometimes get hurt. Sometimes they hurt others. But a lot of times none of that matters, because they're changing together. Everyone else is trying to keep you two how you were. Mostly clean. Me? I say, the messier the better, for you both."

* * *

Cole found him that night in the forest unerringly. He opened as he always did. "You're angry with me."

"Yes."

"You're trying not to be."

"You were only fulfilling your purpose. You helped her survive."

"I did. She couldn't come back with her head full of lyrium. It exploded into her too deeply. The Inquisitor's mind cannot be so full of darkness and live. But I hurt you. That isn't right," said the boy. "I still don't understand how to help you both. There must be a way."

Fen'Harel spoke the truth he never stopped holding. "It's more important she's alive, Cole. If she needs to forget me to do so, I accept it."

"You're lying." Cole studied him and asked a new question as he held out his hand. "Should I make you forget her, Fen'Harel?"

He sat forward with a growl. There was no thunder behind it anymore, no snarling power, but the wild feeling of the wolf was there once again. "Don't. Never call me that. And never make me forget."

"I'm sorry," said the boy, eyes wide, and Fen'Harel was ashamed.

"It's I who should apologize, compassion. Your question was worthy of you. But that's a dangerous name in this world." His heart tightened. "I don't want it to harm her."

The Dalish would certainly turn on her for associating with him. Morrigan would seek revenge for the mother that Solas had killed without thought. The Inquisition would wonder if she'd been corrupted.

And, of course, it would complete her distrust of him if he went to her as Fen'Harel alone. The Wolf was the convincing one, the spirit which brought others to belief. What was Fen'Harel but a boy who'd never been the right person for the world he lived in? He destroyed, he fought, and he lost. His love was nothing but sadness and death.

She would despise him for daring to feel it for her with nothing but a traitor's name to offer. Then she would banish him, and he would truly be alone.

Cole's hands touched his face. The spirit whispered into the night, "The golden throne. The final god, mad with loneliness, watching the world crumble beneath him. Corypheus was supposed to end this. The end of the story was so close. But she prayed to him, and the gods can never stop living inside the hearts of their own. Dark hair, eyes of amber, passion and beauty intertwined. He will never touch her again. Her Veil is too heavy. The lonely god will die with no one to love him."

Tears filled the boy's eyes. "This cannot be."

Fen'Harel wiped his eyes as well. "It's what is, little one."

"No. I will make a new ending." Cole's face set into determined lines, and he vanished.

* * *

He stumbled into Ellana on his way back to camp. She wore her bow and walked with Nuriel, who wouldn't meet his eyes and quickly excused herself. Her embarrassment for her feelings was another rift he couldn't heal. He didn't try to stop her from going, though he wished he could tell her that she was far from the only person to find tragedy from adoration.

Instead he took the opportunity to examine the Inquisitor. Her eyes were tired but clear, and her body was strong again. Magic would flow from her fingers easily, and he was glad she would still be so much of what she was.

As the silence between them stretched to discomfort, he realized he was staring at her hands, remembering how they'd clutched his shoulders as she moved over him. He cleared his throat and looked back at her face. It was forbidding, but not fully hostile.

He nodded to her. "Inquisitor. What brings you here?"

"Cole told me there was someone who needed my help, but he was even vaguer than usual. Did you see anyone?"

"Ah." Fen'Harel cursed helpful spirits and tried to come up with something that wouldn't have her searching all night on a non-existent errand. "He must have meant me. I was having some difficulty finding my way back to camp."

"Solas, the all-powerful rift mage, was lost in the woods," she said flatly.

He winced at her tone. "I'd wandered farther than usual. My bearings are not quite straight after our fighting this afternoon."

The smallest look of concern danced across her face. It warmed him against his will. "Were you injured?"

She stretched out her hand to touch his body, to search for wounds, and he was so tempted to let her. Just one caress. Enough to soothe him. Or inflame him. But inviting touch where it wasn't needed was Solas's game, and he wouldn't play it with her now.

So he reached out with his own hand and gripped her wrist lightly. He released it when she pulled back. "I appreciate it, but there is no injury."

Her voice chilled again. "Of course. I forgot you prefer to do the hurting."

There was no answer to that without treading into waters that might harm her. His heart broke again, just a little, as he stepped around her and went back to camp.

* * *

Ellana watched Solas leave, furious with them both. Her anger with him was easy to define. He'd played his games of power with her yet again, laughing at her desperate advances. He'd made her want and rejected her. He'd kissed her and pulled away. He'd exploited her weakness and left her broken and alone.

At least he'd had the sense to stop the game now, with her temper so high, but instead of smug triumph he walked around defeated and sad. As though she'd been the one to toy with him instead of the other way around. As though she'd been playing.

She thought of Cullen guiltily and pushed it away. That wasn't the same. And she'd admitted her failings to him, at least. He never would. Solas would never stop manipulating her, with his touch or his emotions. He only wanted her to do what he desired.

Which was why she was furious with herself. It was working.

Instead of sending him away, as she should have done, or screaming at him, as she wanted to do, his sadness had her exactly where he wanted again. Tolerating him. Keeping him close. Watching him when he didn't know, trying to make him okay. _Again and always it's the same_ , she thought disgustedly. Would she never be free of this man? Her friends were all watching her with pity, the weaknesses she couldn't give up laid bare before them.

And yet. There was something about Solas. Something important that she almost remembered, on those moments when she was stepping through the Veil. Her dreams were lost to her now, but she half-remembered her hands twining through coarse fur, her ears listening to a new song, her body pulsing with pleasure. The feeling was a bird in the trees, still and quiet, but a real hunter knew it was there. She scented it on the wind, and she would find it. He would stay until she understood it.

Ellana shook her head. Her mind was just trying to justify her behavior and keep him near. She headed back to camp, intent on finding Cole and discouraging him from playing matchmaker. Compassion should know better than that.


	17. Support

The Venatori were gone, the water and lands cleared of the lyrium song, and the Inquisition was ready to move on. Ellana sat at the makeshift War Table with her advisors and negotiated the next steps. Delicately.

"I need to go back to Lavellan," she said, pounding the table. "My sister needs an escort, and I have to see my parents. Falon's lover. My niece." Her voice broke, and Iron Bull rubbed her shoulder.

"No one is denying that, Inquisitor. I simply think that you should travel with a full set of guards this time," said Cullen. Cassandra nodded next to him, and he took her hand and continued. "The people of the Inquisition will feel easier after your last adventure."

_Meaning Leliana will_ , she thought sourly. "I killed the magister. Or so he says." She jerked her head at Solas. "What else could possibly hurt me? I'll be fine."

Cassandra knit her eyebrows together. "Do not say that too loudly, Inquisitor, lest our enemies attempt to capitalize on your overconfidence."

"It would be safer, boss," said Iron Bull apologetically.

She felt trapped in the circle of their concern. How could she explain how much of a violation the forces of the Inquisition would be, no matter how polite or unobtrusive or Dalish they were? Lavellan was the last place she didn't give orders or have to hold lives in her hands. It was the last piece of home.

Annoyingly, Solas was the only one who understood. "Lavellan may resent the intrusion on their grief by so many strangers. We cannot repay their loss with inconsideration. May I suggest a compromise?"

No one objected, though Ellana frowned down at her hands.

"A small group of friends travels back with the Inquisitor instead," said Solas. "Not official guards, but protecting her all the same. Surely that will placate the concerned parties."

"And I suppose you would be one of them?" she asked. Varric shook his head at her reproachfully, but she ignored him.

"I have friends among Lavellan, too," he said. "I wish to extend what comfort I can to them."

Ellana flushed. "Fine. Who else would come?"

Iron Bull, Varric, Cole and Cassandra all raised their hands. She looked at them all in turn. "Yes, yes, yes, no."

"Why not?" demanded Cassandra. "If you fear my manners, Iron Bull is no more tactful than I am in these kinds of situations."

"Because the Commander is needed in Skyhold, and you are needed by the Commander." She grinned. "I would never separate such smitten lovebirds so early in their courtship."

Cullen sputtered, "I'd hardly say smitten."

Ellana looked at their entwined fingers pointedly. His face colored as brightly as the fletching on her mother's arrows, and her grin grew even wider.

The Seeker dropped his hand like it was red lyrium. "This will not do. I did not consent to this, this -"

"Vociferous lovemaking?" offered Varric.

"Sword practice?" said Bull.

"Resource combination?" said Solas.

Ellana looked closely at the last speaker. To her surprise, Solas's face held no trace of the knowing smirk he usually wore after a joke. He seemed easy, playful even. The relaxed look on his face made him more handsome than ever. When he saw her staring at him he grew serious again, but not before tipping the briefest wink at her. She looked away, utterly confused and oddly charmed by this stranger.

Cullen put his head in his hands, and Cassandra glared at them all. "Relationship. I did not consent to this relationship if it would interfere with my duties to the Inquisition."

"So you'll break up with Cullen if the Inquisitor doesn't let you go see the elves?" asked Varric.

"No, of course not. But my assignments shouldn't depend on where the Commander must be."

Ellana sighed. "I promise to separate the two of you as much as possible in the name of duty. Later. Right now, enjoy this, Cassandra. For me. Please. It would be good to see at least one of you happy in love. Two of you. Maker knows the rest of us are hopeless at attracting joy."

She didn't look at Solas.

Bull cleared his throat. "I've got no complaints about my love life."

"Yes you do," said Cole. "Dorian's been in Tevinter too long. His notes are too short. He may need to marry a frigid, Tevene aristocrat to be Archon. What if he warms her up? What if he doesn't come back?" He paused. "The Iron Bull, why does it matter what her temperature is?"

"We'll talk about it later. Damn that's creepy." The Qunari leaned back in his chair. "I thought you weren't going to say those kinds of things anymore."

"It didn't make things smooth to leave them out. I made a new decision."

Iron Bull rolled his eyes and muttered something about the dangers of a demon who started thinking for itself, but no one else said a word. Ellana confirmed the plan with everyone, then pushed away from the table and went to find her sister.

* * *

She was interrupted several times on her search, and by the time she located Nuriel sitting near the healing tents slicing bandages, Cole had already gotten there. He sat on the ground next to her, chattering happily about the various members of the Inquisition. Ellana slid behind a pile of boxes and watched as best she could. Nuriel's face wasn't happy, but it was close. The pinched look of despair had settled into the face of a wounded patient in recovery. Ellana was glad. While Nuriel had been reckless, totally and completely, she had no energy to waste on recriminations for a sister who more than understood the cost of her choices.

Besides, if anyone knew how tempting a certain elf was, it was her. Hadn't she always tried to impress him with her own decisions?

Cole was in the middle of describing the way a rose petal on a pillow had calmed one of the cooks in the kitchen when she was sad when Nuriel put a hand on his arm. He stopped and looked at her curiously.

"You talk about how you help other people all the time, but what about you? Surely you must need the help of others."

"Oh yes. Varric helps me understand when a pain is a secret and when it isn't. Though I help myself with that now, too. The Inquisitor helped me find an amulet that keeps the pieces of myself from hurting anyone when I don't want to. Cullen showed me how to appear without scaring him. Sera, a girl who is an elf but not like you, helped me learn how to wear someone down. That's what she says, anyway. And The Iron Bull teaches me about more complicated things. Like when people like other people. He told me that you like me. He said other things, but I didn't understand them."

Nuriel blushed. "I do like you. But it was rude of Iron Bull to say it. And the other things he said."

"Was it? But I'm glad that you like me. Usually people don't. They're afraid. Or forget me. You haven't forgotten. Just like your sister. Your eyes are like hers. But your heart is not."

"The man who saves your life is hard to forget."

"Am I a man? Varric says I'm not. I'm trying to be, to help you. It's difficult." Cole jumped to his feet. "I will go tell The Iron Bull not to be rude. The Inquisitor wants to talk to you."

He cocked his head at Nuriel. "I will also ask The Iron Bull if it's okay for you to kiss me. I don't know the answer to that question, but he probably does."

Ellana sighed as the spirit loped away. At least he hadn't vanished this time. Nuriel looked over to where she stood and the blush became severe.

"You heard that?"

The uncertainty in her sister's voice cut at Ellana, and she dropped to the grass lightly next to her. She grabbed some bandages and wound them in her hands, considering her words. "Some of it. Enough. You know that Cole is not a person, not as we're used to?"

"He's just a little different."

"Nuriel, you know it's more than that."

"Fine. It's more than that. He's not a man. Not yet. But he wants to be. I want him to be." Her sister sighed. "He's not just different for a person. He's different for me."

Nuriel shot a sidelong glance at Ellana. "Surely you understand that? The most miserable thing about everything I've done is that it's so obvious to me now how much you love Solas yourself."

"This isn't about him," said Ellana. "This about Cole, and keeping both of you safe from each other. Though yes, I also know how easily the desire for difference can lead to heartbreak."

"For you, maybe that's true. You've never let anyone in, have you? I know you think I'm man crazy. Maybe I am. At least I'm not afraid of jumping. There were plenty of men interested in you when they came through Lavellan. Women, too, if you'd wanted them. But no, you were always so caught up in being the sad, rejected fourth mage of the Clan. Like it was some kind of grand conspiracy that two others had been born before you. Like we were always waiting to kick you out."

Nuriel tore another bandage with startling force. "The Keeper chose to let you stay. He cared about you more than his other apprentices. And they didn't even mind. Everyone always defers to you, and you take it as your due and wall them off. Maybe you got used to the adoration while you pretended it was censure. And the Inquisition certainly gives you enough of it now. Solas does, too. He worships you, and you treat him like an inconvenience."

Ellana gaped, completely at a loss. "That's not even close to being true."

"Please." Nuriel rolled her eyes. "Just another man I thought would be interested in me when he only looked at me to see your reflection. Do you know how hard it is to be your miniature? The great mage, the favored of the Keeper, adored by our parents, now the master Inquisitor. But Cole knew me right away. As me. He sees that we're different because he sees the inside of people. And maybe I can help him."

"I just don't want you to get hurt by something that can't be real." _Like I did._

"I could get hurt. I don't know. But I won't let that scare me away. What if it is real? I'm going to try, and you can't stop me. You're not my Inquisitor." Nuriel crossed her arms and fell silent.

Ellana waited, trying to find something to say, but the only paths in front of them were barbed and dangerous. She stood and said quietly, "We'll leave tomorrow for Lavellan, after breakfast."

"Is Cole coming?"

"Yes."

"Good. See you after breakfast."

* * *

Fen'Harel spent the afternoon with Cassandra and Cullen going over the terrain back to Lavellan. He didn't need to ransack Solas's memories much, as he had his map and most of the trip north had been spent close to the surface of his mind. Close to Ellana.

He sensed the warriors' unease with the compromise he'd suggested, and from Cullen's look he knew he was giving much of his heart away in the re-creation of their journey, but he couldn't find it in him to care. He could tell everyone in the Inquisition of his feelings, and it wouldn't matter so long as she didn't trust him.

When they were finished, and they were somewhat satisfied that no treachery existed in their path, he left the war tent in search of some other occupation. _Perhaps the woods again_ , he thought idly.

Before he made it to the edge of camp, Cole ran up to him, anxious. He was tempted to brush past him and fade into the trees, but Cole was one of his only friends and deserved better.

"How can I help you, Cole?"

"The Inquisitor is the other way. She needs to talk to you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Does she? That seems unlikely." Cole didn't answer. "Is this another trick?"

"The Dread Wolf take me if I trick!" said Cole. He beamed and ran away again.

* * *

He found her sitting in an abandoned part of camp, left empty when a portion of her forces had mustered back to Skyhold. She was talking softly as he approached. At first he thought her sister must be with her, but when he drew closer he saw she was alone. He furrowed his brow and listened for a long minute until he understood.

She was praying.

The names of the so-called Creators tumbled out of her lips as earnestly as they ever had, and his fists clenched in anger. She shouldn't be comforted by them anymore. She'd been free, for a short time. And the words shouldn't be so beautiful, even if they were spoken by the most beautiful of women.

He realized he was listening to something very private and moved to leave, but a noise must have betrayed him because she whirled around. There were tears in her eyes. He froze when they touched him, wondering how much of his anger showed on his face.

Enough, apparently. She dropped her eyes. "I'm sorry. I know how much you hate too much faith."

"I'm the one who intruded." He forced himself to stay still. "Besides, it's pleasant to listen to your voice. Please don't let me stop you."

She didn't look back at him before she turned around and resumed her prayers, but he took her lack of dismissal as an invitation to stay. He circled around her left side, where he could watch her face but wouldn't seem too aggressive, and sat cross-legged on the grass. At first she spoke a traditional prayer, one he didn't know, but later shifted into more personal pleadings. She was looking for wisdom, it seemed. He stayed mostly silent, though he wasn't able to repress a growl when she asked Elgar'nan for his.

Ellana didn't acknowledge the sound, but she didn't mention the Father again.

After she closed her prayer, she looked at him a little uncertainly. Her tears had dried, at least. He made his voice calmer than he felt, searching for Solas's bored tones. "You pray eloquently, Inquisitor, but I don't believe you lack the wisdom required for any task. What troubles you?"

He watched as she toyed with a lock of hair between her fingers and could barely keep his own hands resting on his thighs.

Eventually she sighed. "It's Cole."

"He told me you needed to talk to me. What has he done?"

"He did?" she asked. She muttered something under her breath, darkly, then said louder. "I suppose he was right. Your insight into spirits would be useful. It's not just about him. It's about him and my sister."

"Ah. Yes, Varric mentioned Nuriel was showing interest in him. Is it scaring him?"

"Of course Varric knows," she said dryly. She bit her lip. "I don't think it's scaring him. He doesn't seem to understand it, not fully. But he's Cole. And my sister is very much my sister. I'm worried about them."

"Why?" He held up his hands when she gave him a sharp look. "I don't mean to imply you shouldn't be. I merely wish to help you organize your thoughts."

"Fine. I love my sister. She has so many good qualities. And I know she needs something to distract her right now. But she sees romance everywhere. Love is as common as leaves on a tree to her. That's all well and good when she's flirting with some young elf who's just as casual, or an older man who knows better than to take advantage."

There she gave him another look, and he shifted uncomfortably. "But if she changes Cole, really changes him, he won't be able to go back when she moves on. He's so serious. He doesn't understand casual, in anything."

"Do you think he can be changed?"

"I don't know. Do you?"

"Perhaps. Once we convinced him to be more spirit-like, but that wasn't necessarily a permanent change. Cole is curious. And Nuriel is quite a force when she chooses to be." He smiled. "Another family resemblance. But you discount the possibility that she can be just as serious as Cole. As you."

Tears threatened to overtake him, then. He paused to gather himself. He kept his eyes on her feet and didn't try to read the mood of her face. He didn't want to see anger.

He continued when he felt calmer. "More importantly, I don't see that either of us has the ability to stop her from feeling or doing what she will. Cole won't understand the danger. So the best course of action is to stay in a position to monitor them."

"I may have already… compromised that plan." She sounded embarrassed. "We had a bit of a fight about it."

"You'll move past it. Sisters do. And she loves you very much. In a way that's not as common as leaves." He looked at her again. "You're not wrong to worry about Cole. Spirits who take on human form have dangerous minds. He is more aware of this danger than others, and is capable of choices that surprise, but it still bears watching. I will make sure he comes to no harm."

"Thank you," she said. "But I'm confused. You said he was more aware than others, like other spirits have become human. Cole is unique, isn't he?"

Fen'Harel cursed himself. "In my journeys in the Fade I saw it happen long ago. Very long. In the time of Arlathan. It did not appear to have happy results. It was so long ago that Cole may as well be unique."

"I see." Ellana plucked a blade of grass and twirled it in her hands. He watched, fascinated, and almost laughed when she realized she was doing it. She dropped it back to the ground with a glare. He wished then that they weren't broken, that they were lovers, and that he could tease her and kiss her until she glared at him for an entirely different reason.

Instead he said mildly, "Did you have something else to ask?"

"Yes. Another question of truth. I'd say we're resting now, wouldn't you?"

He nodded, a little afraid.

"Why do you hate Elgar'nan? What about the Father god bothers you so much?" She held up a finger, though he hadn't begun to answer. "And don't give me any of that 'in my journeys in the Fade' nonsense. What do you think?"

Dangerous waters. So dangerous. But Fen'Harel had promised honesty in their game, shoved Solas aside to take those unwise steps, and he still wanted to give it to her. "Elgar'nan was meant to lead the Elvhen. He was justice. Vengeance. But the elves fell. They were weak and unprepared, and he made them that way. His name is nothing but failure."

"But aren't the other Creators just as culpable, if that's true?"

"He was the leader of a nation! Leaders take responsibility. When they fail, they may not look at another and shift blame like a child."

She paled, and he hurried to soothe her. "You are nothing like the Father. You're a worthy spirit to lead. He could never have accomplished what you have, Inquisitor."

"I don't always think so."

"That's part of what makes you so worthy." He saw discomfort on her face at the compliments and knew the time of conversation was nearly over. Before he stood, he asked, "May I ask my question?"

"Of course. That was the agreement."

"You didn't ask for protection from the gods against the Wolf today, as you usually do when you pray. Why not?"

A foolish question. A question that was too close to him, too close to her. But he waited with hope.

She frowned. "I'm not sure. It seems unfair to blame all of our evils on a creature who's only following his nature. We should take more responsibility for our own paths. Wolves aren't evil, though they can hurt you if you're incautious. Halla aren't good, though they can aid you if you're wise. What they are depends on what we are." She shrugged. "Better to ask the gods to improve us than to turn others aside."

He stood, heart full to bursting. "A well-considered answer. Better than any Chantry could give about their own faith."

Because he couldn't help himself, he reached down to pull her to her feet. She rose lightly with her hands clasped inside of his. He smoothed one thumb over the back of her hand before letting her go. He wanted to do so much more.

"I'm so glad you approve," she said pertly, and then he did laugh. "Thank you for your advice, Solas. I feel better. And I'm glad you're here. The Inquisition can use you. You're not an inconvenience."

"I am. But I will still aid you where I can."

She gave him another look, a little angry but mostly surprised, but before she could say anything a messenger was calling her on Cassandra's behalf. She turned back into the formal Inquisitor and went to find the Seeker.


	18. Gratitude

The party set off for Lavellan the next morning, and Fen'Harel watched the sisters as they traveled. As he'd suspected, there was still love flowing between them, but there was also a tang of anger in the air. They were as polite as two men sharing a small room, but the frustration was always evident. The way they reacted to it fascinated him.

Nuriel was all emotions, and they changed their tenor from minute to minute. She was homesick. She was afraid to see her home. She was guilty. She was defiant. She was flirting with Cole. She was shy of his eyes on her. It was exhausting to watch her swirl together and apart, and he was glad that Cole was there to calm her. While the rest liked her well enough, even Varric's patience wore thin as she twisted herself to the bone in front of them.

He also watched Cole carefully, as he'd promised the Inquisitor, and he came to share her concern. The human spirit was entirely focused on the young elf, to the exclusion of nearly everyone else, and he was very, very serious. He flowed in and out of her moods like water, like a mirror, and he alone had no trouble keeping up with her. If Nuriel drew away in indifference, it would disappoint him immeasurably. But he also saw something that Ellana's closeness to her sister might have missed - that Nuriel was serious as well.

During one of her rare quiet spells, he drew Cole aside and asked how she was doing. Through that, he would know how compassion was bearing up.

Cole considered the question. "She is a storm. She's sorry about it, as are storms, but neither can help it."

"And what will happen when the storm stops?" he said mildly.

"I don't know. Sunshine, I hope. I will try to find it for her." He smiled. "Her hurt won't get stuck inside. I made it better. I will still work on yours."

"Cole, you know she may forget you, once her hurts are eased and compassion is no longer needed. Living minds lose focus."

"Yes, I told her. She said she wouldn't. I'm not just compassion. I'm Cole. She will remember that."

"I hope so for you. But if she doesn't, you have friends to help you. Don't forget us, either."

"Yes, it's important to remember friends. Like Evangeline and Rhys. Like you." Cole looked at Fen'Harel searchingly. "She wants me to be more than I am. I don't know how that can be, because I am always and only me, but I can learn. Will you?"

He said nothing, only watched the Inquisitor walking ahead of them. Unlike her sister Ellana had drawn inward, growing more and more insular as they got closer to her home. He could practically see the thoughts churning in her, the fear as to her reception, the responsibility she felt for everything whether or not she should. Varric and Iron Bull joked with her constantly, trying to draw smiles out of her somber expression, and he wanted to shake them. Did they not understand her spirit at all? She needed the solitude and the solemnity. Ellana would tell them when she was ready to laugh again.

As he watched, Varric moved to her side and started yet another joke. Her eyes tightened with the effort of forcing a smile. She was a good leader. She always gave her people what they needed. Varric didn't notice her strain as he added hand gestures to his routine. Iron Bull rumbled a laugh behind them, and Ellana tried to chuckle. It was a weak, dead sound in the forest. The sound of coffins lowering into the ground.

Fen'Harel snapped. He strode away from Cole and shoved past the Qunari. "Excuse me, Inquisitor. May I have a word with you?"

She nodded wearily and dismissed the other two men. A beam of sunlight hit her in the eye as she turned towards him, and they both reached up to shade her. Their hands brushed slightly, enough to make him jump, and he lost focus as he dropped his hand. He started again when she asked, "Yes?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The word you wanted to have with me. Is it about Nuriel?"

"Ah. No. The word I wanted you to have was silence." She looked at him in confusion before he clarified, "If I walk alongside you for a time, you won't have to speak to anyone."

"Oh." She half-turned to glance behind her, guiltily. "That would be nice."

He smiled, but made no other response. She returned the smile, a little hesitantly, but she relaxed as they kept moving without words. When she held out a hand to help him over a fallen log he could have easily crossed over himself, he understood the thank you in the gesture, and that was worth everything.

He imagined that she held his fingers a little too long, a little more tightly than she needed to, but he steered his mind away from those sorts of dreams. Maybe in the future, he could rebuild something with her. For now, they would be friends. It was a start.

_Or maybe the rebuilding will be sooner, if the rest of the group has their way,_ he thought an instant later. As the rest of the group came up behind him, he could have sworn he heard Varric mutter, "I didn't think it would take him so long to butt in. Those jokes were getting painful."

* * *

They stopped at the cave where she and Solas had slept one night, where lyrium had first entered the picture. He winced, remembering the painful and stilted conversations they'd had within, and by the look on her face her mind was similarly occupied. Nevertheless she turned to him and said she wanted to check the stream. He responded to the unspoken request and moved inside with her, leaving the rest to their conversation.

Nuriel giggled at something Cole said, and Fen'Harel's stomach twisted. This wasn't a place for joy.

When they stepped through the small cavern where they'd slept, so very far apart, he had at least one comfort. No pride demon would ever tempt him again. He still hadn't entered the Fade since Corypheus had died, in no mood for spirit lectures, but it was one fear removed for his next trip. Solas had taken that weakness with him when he'd blocked the magister from taking their mind.

She said nothing until she knelt by the running water. Her hand reached toward it slowly, and he saw it was shaking. He held his breath as she touched it, even though he was sure that it was safe. He was on guard. He had to be ready.

Breath whooshed out of her as she dipped her hand below the surface. "Nothing. The song is gone."

_It's not gone. It's just in you, my heart._ But he smiled anyway, for her. "I'm glad. Nature need not fear corruption, now. You stopped it."

"So you say. I still don't remember how. For all I know, you did it."

"You know better than that. I'm the one who makes the problems. You correct them."

He'd wanted his tone to be light, but he heard the bitterness in it and winced. He shrugged, lamely. "That's how it usually works, anyway."

Ellana jerked her head towards him sharply. She seemed to be arguing with herself, then blurted out, "What's wrong with you?"

He looked down at himself, completely nonplussed. "What do you mean?"

"Is this a new game you're playing?" She twisted her hands together, but her voice was strong. "You got bored of the physical torture, so now you're emotionally manipulating me? If so, I don't appreciate it, Solas."

Physical torture? Emotional manipulation? He sensed that his answer was important to her, but he'd never felt more at a loss in his life. "I'm not - I don't know what -"

"Don't pretend you don't know. Cracking jokes with the group, but all sadness when we're alone. Complimenting me, putting yourself down. What happened to annoyingly confident Solas? Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you so I'll allow you to stay?"

"No, of course not. You shouldn't feel sorry for me. I don't deserve pity."

The dark look in her eyes told him he'd made a mistake. _I love you_ , he thought _, and you will never know who I am. How can that be good?_ "I don't know what you want me to say."

She turned back around and drifted her hand over the water again. "Never mind. I don't know why I expected you to admit it. But you don't have to do this to earn your place. It's offered freely." She stood abruptly. "Please leave. I need to be clean."

* * *

They were a few hours away from Lavellan, and Ellana was sure she was going to be sick. How could she face her Clan? She'd put them all in danger, again, because of who she was. Corypheus had known exactly where she was. He'd known exactly how to draw her. And now there were more deaths on her hands. _I wish I would have died at the Conclave_ , she thought miserably.

Cole ghosted up behind her. "We would all be dead. So would they."

"Someone else could have done it. Someone else would have. They would have found a way."

"No. You're history's pivot. We needed you." Cole touched her arm, an oddly human gesture. "Your sister needs you now."

She looked back as he moved ahead of her, and she saw what he meant. Nuriel's face was a careful mask. It was the face she'd worn when she'd broken a wrist jumping off of a rock on a dare. The one she'd worn when Ellana had accidentally singed her with a fire spell and was going to run away in shame. The one she'd worn when her best friend had moved to another Clan without a goodbye. It was the face of pain that wouldn't be shown, because if it was shown it would be real and everything would fall.

Her heart clenched, and she forgot all of her anger and her fear and her sickness. This was her sister. She stopped until Nuriel caught up with her, then reached out and took her hand. She squeezed it. Nuriel laced her fingers through the gaps in her own. When Solas called back that the first Lavellan scouts had found them, they didn't let go.

* * *

It might have been better if they'd yelled. The silence was more oppressive than any noise could have been. She felt very small and very young in the circle of their eyes, trying to explain in halting words that two of the sons of Lavellan were in the care of the god of death. When she apologized that there were no bodies, that they couldn't offer them back to the earth as they deserved, her voice cracked. It was the only time. Her sister's palm was no comfort in her hand, but they held to each other anyway. The guilt was lonelier for being shared.

Her friends didn't speak, though Cole was keening quietly with the pain in the clearing. Her father was weeping openly but made not a single sound. Her mother was still as a halla, face revealing nothing. Therin's brother felt like thunder while his fists worked, open and closed, open and closed. Another young man was gripping his own arms with a force that turned his skin white. A lover, possibly. A friend. They were all friends. They were all family. She'd failed them, and she had no words to make it right.

When the words that were poor substitute ended and Ellana fell into their silence, her niece suddenly cried, a sharp sound that sent them all over the edge. Nuriel sobbed and knelt to the ground. Her mother ran to them and knelt as well. The Clan whispered, cried, fought, and broke around her.

She could take no part. Her heart was as empty as the camp they'd left behind, picked clean of everything that had any value. She released her sister and stepped back. Lavellan hated her. She couldn't share in the comfort they offered one another.

The Inquisition watched her, through her friends, and she understood why she hadn't wanted them here. How could she be weak in front of them? Ellana Lavellan could be soft. The Inquisitor couldn't.

A hand touched her back as she moved, and then she was fire, no longer empty. Solas. Cole. Whichever one dared to pretend this could be fixed by their touch, she would set them straight. She turned around, knowing she was out of control, ready to scream at one of them. At any of them. If she couldn't have Lavellan's love she wouldn't accept theirs either.

Instead it was the Keeper, old and older again, with a face lined by grief around his markings. Not grief for her brother or Therin, though that was hidden inside like a secret. Grief for her and the losses of herself that would never stop as the Inquisitor. He'd always watched out for her. Had she ever thanked him for it? Had she ever shown him anything but her own needs? He'd fought for her. He'd elevated her. She took and took and never gave. A tear escaped her control and she made no move to stop it as it rolled down her cheek.

The Keeper shook his head. "No. You give too much, child."

There was no time to wonder how he'd known her thoughts because she was crying, caught up in the circle of her teacher's arms like the child he claimed she was. She shook helplessly as her own grief spilled out of her, held back so long. Her eyes were screwed together too tightly to see anyone else. She was glad. The accusing eyes of her Clan were no comfort. The expectations of her companions were even less.

But when one of the Keeper's arms left her, she forced her eyes open anyway. His face was exhausted. The staff he always carried was no longer just a walking stick, but his only means of support, and she jumped back quickly to keep him from collapsing under her weight. The trouble was, she wasn't nearly done crying, and the shudders of her body almost unbalanced her. _I'm going to fall_ , she thought numbly.

Before the thought finished, there were hands at her back holding her up. Large, strong. Iron Bull. Cole slipped himself against her side, and Varric her other, keeping her from swaying. And Solas, last of all, stood in front of her, his touch feather light on her forehead to soothe the pain in her mind. He stepped back when her father reached them, moved over to the Keeper to heal his exhaustion, but she felt his magic coursing through her long after he was gone.

Nuriel and her mother joined, then friends, even Falon's lover, and all of them gathered into a mass with her at their center. She wept in the middle of her two families and had never been so grateful.


	19. Advice

That afternoon her father showed the Inquisition visitors around Lavellan's camp, needing distance from his tent. He was a man of items, a man who saw the stories in the simple lines of what had been created, and Ellana knew he would be overwhelmed by the threads of unfinished tales left behind by Falon. Even she could barely look at the things he'd so casually stepped away from when he took a tent with his created family.

With her mother and sister, they touched and held each one and remembered what they meant. The broken arrow he'd kept after winning his first tournament. The tokens he'd taken from women who'd found him irresistible. Ellana was surprised at how many there were, but her mother only smiled. A collection of feathers that he'd never shown anyone. One smooth stone, rubbed by his thumb when he worried over a problem. Ellana kept that for her own, and no one stopped her.

The three women shed no more tears. It wasn't time for that. Later, there would be a funeral fire, and sharing, and a public grief once again, but for now they sheltered each other and spoke only soft memories.

Eventually even that was past, and though Falon's presence never left them, and conversation spiraled back to him with the gentle motion of a leaf on the wind, the world began turning again ever so slightly. Ellana's soul moved once more.

"What's happened to the Keeper?" she asked.

"He's been elderly for a long time, child," said her mother. "It's no more than that. Though he still will not pass his title on to his First. She hasn't yet complained, but the time will come when she will. I hope he sees wisdom soon."

_Don't you see how much older he is?_ she wanted to cry out, but she didn't. Maybe they were too close to it. Maybe they didn't see. She was half-tempted to believe she was imagining it. She might have, if she hadn't seen the same concern on Solas's face. The only reason she was here now was that Solas had gone with the Keeper after the gathering. He may be changing and inconstant with her, but he clearly respected her teacher too much to let him come to harm.

Which was very galling, she had to admit.

As though in response to her thought, her mother smoothed the hair on her eldest daughter's head. "The archer still holds her shot, I see. Your companion will not join us for dinner, though I asked."

Ellana's cheeks burned, but she said with careful deliberation, "Which companion?"

Nuriel snorted. Her mother smiled indulgently. "Ana, all your friends were asked, but only one companion declined. He seemed to consider himself unwelcome."

"He's not wrong," muttered Nuriel. When Ellana looked at her, she protested, "Not from me. You're the one who wouldn't give him a bucket of water if he were on fire."

"I don't know what you mean," she said. Her voice sounded unconvincing even to her. "All of my friends are welcome."

"Sure, the ones who are just your friends. I'm sure if we looked through your things, there'd only be a token from one man," said Nuriel. "If you even allowed him to give one to you."

Ellana's hands drifted to her face, tracing the lines where the markings used to be. _Not all tokens can be left behind in a box, little sister. Some are permanent and will never leave you. Some are visible to no one but yourself._

Her mother saw the gesture and stopped the soothing movement of her own hand. "Meanwhile, Nuriel, yours may take several boxes to hold. They would rival even Falon's collection, I believe. When we next wander, will there be room for else in your pack?"

Nuriel rolled her eyes. "Mother, not all of them gave me tokens. Besides, I don't need them anymore. I've found true love."

Now it was Ellana's turn to snort, and she welcomed the change in conversation gratefully. This was familiar. This was home. This was safe. Well, relatively safe. "Let's not send out the handfast notice yet. True love seems to be found so easily when my little sister cracks open an eye."

Her mother laughed, and Nuriel crossed her arms. "This is different."

"All love is different when you hold it, and the same when it is memory," said their mother. "And this Cole is not of our kind."

"How did you know it was him?" asked Nuriel. She looked so much like Dorian when he'd been caught out in an outrageous lie, so indignant that anyone would dare do it, that Ellana almost laughed.

"Your countenance is as open as the sky, child, and just as easy to see."

"Hmph. Well, it shouldn't matter that he's not an elf. Lots of good people aren't elves. I didn't think you'd be one of those judgmental people, mother." She said it with a tone that implied those people were only one step above Venatori. Or possibly below.

"I have no issue with love being found where it lies. Inside of Clans, outside of Dalish, inside of elves or outside entirely, everything has a place. But Cole is not human. He's of the Fade, and the love he may hold for any of our kind is not a romantic kind."

Ellana, in shock, echoed her sister's earlier question. "How did you know all of that?"

"It's tempting to pretend my hunter's skills offer me keen insights into other's nature, if only to impress my powerful daughter," said her mother with a smile. "Were we all deer, this might be true. Unfortunately my human insights only ever extended to my three children." Her voice hitched on the number, but she moved on. "Cole told me. He seemed to think I needed to know. To avoid hurts, he said."

"Why would you need to know?" asked Nuriel.

"Because he will always be a friend of your heart, my daughter. But he can't give you the love you want. He will never give you children. He'll never see the outside of you to want. You'll never know the joy of the end of a fight, when the anger is gone, because he will never hold anger at all. One emotion is not enough to build a life on. And his emotion is worthy, but it is still only one."

Nuriel's face had grown more and more mutinous as their mother spoke, and at the end she jumped to her feet. "You're wrong. I'm going to go talk to him."

Neither of the two seated women tried to stop her as she stomped out.

"I appreciate the attempt," said Ellana. "She certainly won't listen to me."

"A mother's wisdoms aren't always received, but they are always heard. So I hope."

Ellana frowned. "Cole is more perceptive than I realized. I should have given him more credit."

"You should. He is a very kind spirit. But in this case, I believe the credit goes to your Solas. Cole said that he only knew he wasn't the right love because he knew someone who was," said her mother.

"That could mean anything."

"It could at that." Her mother smiled at her. "Shall I dispense my mother's wisdom to you?"

Ellana shrugged slightly.

"Have I ever told you how your father and my love came to be?"

"He came to your Clan and swept you off your feet and he sent for you immediately upon his return and it was a match for the ages," said Ellana all in one breath, tiredly.

"I see he has told you his story a few times," her mother said, laughing lightly. "Now let me tell you the truth that he chooses not to remember. He did come to my Clan, and I did want him from the first moment. He was sharp and clever and his hands were calloused in a way that the hunter's fingers never are. I quite enjoyed the feeling of them under the moonlight."

Ellana blanched and covered her ears, and her mother shook her head as she pulled them down. "Honestly. So prudish for all your power. Before he left, I knew it was true love. I fear my youngest has received some of her sillier traits very honestly. However he didn't send for me, or even ask my Keeper about the possibility of a courtship. I waited a week, bursting with impatience, then had my best friend forge a letter from Lavellan asking for me to visit."

"You did what?" Ellana tried to picture her mother, giggling and young and deceitful, and it wouldn't come.

"I thought it was rather clever. They didn't question it, or if they did they didn't try to stop me. My own mother certainly packed more soothing herbs than were necessary. And when I got to Lavellan, your father was very surprised to see me. Mostly because he was involved with a woman of his Clan already." Her mother waved away her daughter's gasp. "It was hardly surprising. He's very handsome. Even more so then. And his hands were very clever.

"The Clan was also surprised to see me, so young and with no real purpose for visiting. But I convinced the Keeper at the time to let me stay as a guest. I am a hunter by nature, and I had my quarry. You don't leave the nest before all of your arrows have been fired."

"But what if he didn't really want you? What if he just enjoyed the chase and wanted to fade away?" asked Ellana hesitantly.

"Not all prey is brought down. Not every shot lands. Sometimes your belly is empty for a time, until it's not. That doesn't mean the arrows are wasted. In this case, I was the victor. The other woman was married quite happily into another Clan, and your father never looked at anyone else," said her mother. The rich satisfaction in her voice chilled Ellana.

"That seems very calculating."

"It can be, at times. But the hunt of love ends not in blood but in life. Even when the tears fall, it's still life." She looked Ellana in the eye. "When Solas came here, I knew only three things about him. He knew the methods of charming, he suited his name well, and he'd hurt your heart. For the last I would have given him no welcome. But the draw of your bow was already made, and you were hunting whether you knew it or not. I know the single-mindedness that drives you better than you think. For what it's worth, Ana, though the original guest was skittish, the man who returned with you is ready to be caught."

"Yes, he's very good at giving people that impression," said Ellana. She wiped a single tear away.

Her mother stood and offered her hand. "Let's go to the woods. I think it's time for you to show me what you've learned of your bow on your travels." Her eyes sparkled. "I'm led to understand by Varric that it may have been quite a lot."

* * *

Fen'Harel watched the Keeper carefully as he spoke and was relieved when color returned to his cheeks. The Clan hadn't found his weakness odd, but Ellana had been frightened, so through her he was also. He hadn't spent much time around the Dalish, and almost none among the elderly of any group. Spirits didn't age, and neither had Arlathan. Soldiers also weren't known for their longevity, and those three groups made up the totality of his long experience. He wasn't sure what aging was supposed to look like. From the look on Ellana's face, this wasn't it.

A small part of him shivered, feeling the weight of the future pressing down on him. He would learn aging soon enough.

They'd talked of mostly usual things, magical theory, some stories of his travels and the Clan's activities, and as much of the Venatori as he felt safe explaining to one who hadn't experienced them. The Keeper had been explaining the funeral rites that would be performed later when Fen'Harel had drifted back to thoughts of his looming mortality, and only after the silence stretched past comfort did the younger man look up. The sunset was behind the Keeper's head and gave him the look of a holy man. "Forgive me, Keeper, I didn't mean to drift."

"Understandable, child. Or should I say teacher?" A smile ghosted across the Keeper's face.

Fen'Harel shifted uncomfortably. "I am neither child nor teacher. Merely Solas."

"I think not. Solas would not have given his protections away so easily," said the Keeper. "No matter how worthy the recipient. He did not always see beyond himself."

"What do you mean?"

The Keeper gestured to his face. "Tell me, one who is merely Solas, what do these show you?"

"You serve Mythal," said Fen'Harel.

"Indeed. Unusual for a Keeper, is it not? Particularly a male Keeper."

"I wouldn't know. I have no Clan and little experience in these things." said Fen'Harel, lying smoothly. Mythal's slaves had almost always been women, in Arlathan. "I suppose the leader of a Clan should want the blessings of protection."

"I see. Well, it is unusual. However, the way I arrived at my patron was unusual as well. A woman travelled through these woods once. Not Dalish, human, but elven in spirit. She was young, and beautiful, and I was the only one who saw her." The Keeper smiled. "Her body's name was Flemeth, but the name of her soul was Mythal. I loved her very much."

Fen'Harel remained silent. Protest now would only sound hollow.

"She left after a time, as was her way, but when it came time to choose who I would serve there was never any choice. I don't know if she guided my steps. Perhaps. I like to think she did, when her powers allowed it. But I became the Keeper, and whether or not she was with me in spirit, I saw her twice more in flesh.

"The first time, she begged me to keep a fourth mage in my Clan. Ellana was about to be sent away, traded to another Clan or sent to the humans for their care. Mythal commanded my personal protection. I would not have denied her in any case, but in this I was happy to obey. Ellana was a rare spirt, even as a child. But I suppose you've guessed that was so," said the Keeper.

He nodded. Rare and marvelous. Hadn't he told her as much, so long ago?

"The second time was more recent. She was sadder, older, and very weary. I could do nothing for her, and she knew it. This servant had not been chosen well for strength. She told me she would die the next day, to repay a debt that was long overdue. I didn't understand the debt, but I understood she couldn't be moved from her path. I asked if I could serve her in my small way. She told me that, if her plans went to purpose, someday a young man would visit Lavellan. A young man of mistakes. A young man who was as old as the oldest story. He would be a wolf in disguise, but a friend all the more for it, and his pride would roll in front of him like a wave. I would know him from these things, and from her spirit, which would peer out of his eyes."

"And what were you to do with this error-prone elf, if and when he arrived?" asked Fen'Harel. He tried to keep the memory of that stiffened human body lying in the forest out of his face. He'd killed her, but she'd been more willing than he knew to die.

"Help him find a new path. Give him an end. Free him. She said death could pay a debt but only life could erase its memory," said the Keeper. "You've done well, I believe."

Ellana didn't love him, and he was going to die. "I suppose freedom and happiness were never promised to be the same. I've managed very little of worth with her sacrifice."

"You protected your heart, did you not?"

When Fen'Harel looked away, the Keeper chuckled. "Have faith, Wolf. If not in gods, in friends. Mythal loved you once, too."

"And what an end it gave her. I'm not safe."

"Then why do you stay?"

"Because I'm an unkind, selfish fool," said Fen'Harel bitterly. "I hope, and it destroys."

"No. That's the missing piece speaking. Listen to me, one who is not Solas and no longer carries Mythal. Pride cannot sustain love alone. But Solas is still needed to make the beginning. Don't forget that Ellana wanted him, too."

At Fen'Harel's questioning look, the Keeper laughed. "I'm not so old and blind as all that. If Solas hadn't gotten in his own way so often, I'd have only needed to send one bedroll with you on your scouting trip."

"I want more than a bedroll," he said quietly.

He stood. The night was fully in bloom now, and he had never needed to rest so much. The Keeper didn't answer, only watched, as Fen'Harel walked away.

* * *

That night he entered the Fade for the first time since he'd gone to the Venatori camp. Ellana was there, waiting.


	20. Love

"What in the Void is this?" said Ellana. Fen'Harel was still too shocked at her appearance to even begin to answer, but she didn't wait. She looked around angrily. "Cole took me out into the forest, and he did something, and now there's this. Surely you can sense I'm in no mood for desire, demon. You're wasted here. All I want to do is sleep."

Any worry that she was a demon herself was erased by the dryness of her words and the true irritation in her voice. No demon had the capacity for annoyance. They simply didn't understand it.

"I'm not a demon," he said. "It's me."

"That's what a demon would say, wouldn't it? Although I suppose Solas would be so arrogant as to think I'd just believe him. Still you'll have to do better than that," she said. She crossed her arms. "Why don't you taunt me with my useless lust, like always?"

"Ah. Well…" he said. He suddenly had the urge to rub the back of his neck, as the Commander always did, though he knew he didn't blush nearly so hotly as the Fereldan. "I would be pleased to explore how useless your lust isn't, but I don't think you meant it as a true invitation to me."

Her cheeks, on the other hand, grew as red as the setting sun. "Oh Creators. It is you, isn't it?"

He nodded, and she put her face in her hands. "Please just forget all of that," she said through her fingers.

"Forgotten, as you request." _For now,_ he thought. He continued in an even voice, "You say Cole sent you into the Fade?"

She took a deep breath. "Yes. He said he had something to tell me. I thought it was about my sister, who was not in the best mood at dinner. Then he said it would be easier to show me, and he touched my head. Then I was here."

"Curious. There seems to be little here to see." He looked around them and saw nothing particular. "This is a very barren part of the Fade. Lavellan apparently holds little interest to spirits."

"Not true," said a voice, "but compassion required space for this." Spirits drifted towards them from every corner, materializing quickly, led by the wisdom spirit who'd spoken. "We are happy to help an old friend."

"I appreciate it, but I've never traveled here until recently and could not rightly be called friend," he said. "Unless you meant…?" He gestured to Ellana.

"No, neither of you, though I have watched you both," said a love spirit. "This friend is even older."

The spirits parted, and a shining elven woman stepped through them, indistinct and silvery but with more life than any other being in the Fade. He gaped as she walked up to him and kissed his mouth softly. She didn't wait for a response before she turned to Ellana with a smile. "Hello, little one. I'm glad to see you again. You've exceeded all my expectations."

"Again?" she said. "I don't know who you are."

"Of course. This form is unfamiliar to you. And little compassion, he protected you while I recovered. Compassion was always a good steward of my gifts." The woman smiled and said three dangerous words before Fen'Harel could think to stop her. "I am Mythal."

"Mythal," repeated Ellana. A look of confusion passed over her face. "I met you. With Morrigan. In the Fade."

"Yes, though I wore another's face. And you met me again, in the Venatori camp. Remember?"

"No!" he shouted. He watched Ellana's eyes grow hazy, and he ran to the goddess and grabbed her arm. "Don't. It will harm her if she remembers. Stop this."

"Fen'Harel," said Mythal, and the name felt like a blow to the stomach. "I promise I will not harm her. She's yours. Or are you hers? Difficult to tell, even for me."

Ellana put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. "Fen'Harel. The Dread Wolf. I sent him away. You were in his mind. Solas… but it was Corypheus. What happened?" she asked plaintively, and her agony sliced through him.

She opened her eyes again and there were patches of red in them, and for the first time he heard the sweet temptation of the song, strong and powerful. It pulled at him, and it was her, and she pulled at him, too. There was little he could do to stop from touching her. He grabbed her hand in his own without thought. The song was even stronger with contact. He understood now how frightened she'd been when she heard it.

He looked at the goddess in dumb anger even while he wanted to give in. "How is this not harm?"

"Like poison from a wound. It must be drawn away." Mythal lifted her hands to Ellana's temple and pulsed power. Ellana rocked backwards, and part of the red escaped her eyes into the air. Mythal pulled it into herself quickly, before he could react. The song through his hand was quieter.

Mythal spared a glance at him. "Dirthamen is gone, but his pain remains. It feeds the power that she holds. I will take it, protect it, and leave this world. I will join the Wolf in his rest."

Tears ran down his face. "This can't be the only way."

"It's not. There are many ways. But none so sure, my friend. My faithful servant was very generous with his power, though it weakened him considerably. Care for him, please. As a favor to me." More red power released, more absorbed. Over and over again as she spoke. "I can serve no more purpose in this world."

"There is always a place for protection."

She laughed. "Solas knew better. He killed my human body at the right time. I would have no longer been content to let the Wolf slumber." Mythal nodded to Ellana as she continued to draw the lyrium out. "You've given our young friend the power to make a new world. Just as you always claimed you would, Fen'Harel, though I think the method of its makings are surprising even to a trickster. Do not interfere with her spirit, and it will be beautiful. A new perfect to replace that which never was."

The last of the power left Ellana's eyes, and they were clear and amber once again. He realized he was still gripping her hand tightly, but when he moved to let go she didn't let him. Her voice was hoarse as she looked at him. "Fen'Harel. The Dread Wolf. You let me forget." Tears collected in the eyes that were only hers again. "You loved me, and you let me forget."

Mythal smiled painfully. "Try to remember the first part, little one. You'll need it." She backed away from them both and into the crowd of spirits who still watched. As she vanished, she spoke one last time. "So long, old friend. May you be always in the light."

* * *

They stood in silence for a very long time, though time held little meaning in the Fade. He didn't know what to say to her. He had no sense of her emotions. And while he could have forced himself to wake, to slip out of this place, it was the last thing he would ever do to her. She still held his hand tightly, more like a vise than like a lover, and he could see the thoughts rushing through her.

The spirits, surprisingly, kept their distance and didn't speak, and he wondered what they were waiting for.

Eventually Ellana spoke. "I remember now. What I did. How Corypheus died. The gods. Dirthamen and the lyrium. You gave me Mythal. The morning after we…" She stopped. "I remember that, too. You let me forget it. I was so angry with you. I thought you didn't care."

"I do care. But I didn't make you forget."

"You didn't make me remember."

"It was too dangerous. I'd rather you be hurting than dead. Or worse." He sighed. "Solas and I have more in common than I'd hoped. We both only hurt you. You deserve someone more."

The hand holding his let go suddenly, and he watched the anger rise on her face like the morning sun, no less bright than its rays. But before she spoke, the Fade around them changed, so suddenly she cried out. It was the Venatori prison cell again, but no lyrium lined its walls. Instead there were three demons, and there was no door of escape. Pride, Despair and Fear circled them hungrily, wanting a fight. They had been waiting for him to come through the Veil, he realized.

A wisdom spirit whispered, "This is the only way," before it slid back and watched.

He snarled and tried to shield Ellana, but they were moving too fast, and there was no way to keep himself between her and all of them. "You forget who I am if you think this can hold me," he said, but the words were hollow and without force. The power over the Fade he'd once held so closely seemed distant and muted.

Pride smiled. "It's you who forget who you are, I think. You will fall to me this time, ancient one." With a shock, Fen'Harel realized it was the same demon as the cave, the one who'd almost consumed him. A flash of Solas showed itself in the grotesque body. He'd been sorely tempted.

Despair sobbed, the sound of dry paper in the wind. "You will both fall. How can you protect her, alone? You've never been enough."

He flinched and waited for Fear to add its taunt, but there was nothing. He looked behind him and saw Ellana transfixed. He realized with a sinking feeling that Fear wasn't waiting for him. It was waiting for her.

* * *

Fear watched her with the same dead eyes it always held. Was it the same one, after all this time? The Nightmare that chased her through her dreams? It didn't matter, she realized. While fear took many forms, the results were always the same. For her, the cause was always the same. And with Solas next to her, embodying her weakness, she didn't have the strength to fight.

_Fen'Harel_ , she reminded herself. _Solas is dead._ Fear laughed, as though it could hear her, which it probably could. Despair and Pride were speaking to Fen'Harel, but she couldn't understand their words. She tried to focus, to hear what was attacking him, but her mind was clouded and dull.

"Do you think them so different?" asked Fear. "One dangles his lust before taking it away. The other his love. Neither are truly for you."

"No. There were reasons."

"There always are, Lavellan. You're too good, so they send you away. You're too powerful, so they can't stay close. You're too beautiful, so they don't deserve you. Pretty lies to hide the truth, that you are only wanted when you can't be had. Your desires make you undesirable. Your strengths make you unsuitable. But you can't stop yourself from having them, can you? Poor little elf girl. If you let me take them away, if you let me show you the way to your better self, he'll be in your power for once."

She shook her head, but she couldn't look away. "This isn't right. It's a trick, like Corypheus. I beat him. I can beat you."

"He was a human, sad, lonely little girl. He was full of me. So are you. The truth is, you need me. Without me, you'd know that it's not temptation that makes you fail. It's yourself. You need someone to blame."

Fen'Harel sobbed harshly, and she looked back at him. He was kneeling, demons still circling, and whatever they were doing to him was breaking him as surely as rocks on bones. If she'd needed any proof that he was a different man, it was in his agonized face. Solas had never let pain cause him grief, only anger. While she watched, she heard Despair's words clearly for the first time. "The Wolf was the only worthwhile part of you. No wonder it needed to leave. No wonder she will leave. You'll always be alone."

She flushed in anger. _That's not true!_

Fen'Harel said nothing, only bowed his head in acceptance. And like that, her mind was her own again, in her shame and guilt. He'd told her she was a good leader, and she wouldn't shift blame, but he'd been wrong. She'd been blaming him for everything since he'd left her with the broken orb. He'd made mistakes, yes, but he'd come back to face them. To her, because he couldn't help himself. He'd let her be angry and taken it without complaint.. He'd been sorry, but she hadn't forgiven.

It wasn't his fault that she loved him. It wasn't his fault that she was afraid of her power, afraid of lyrium, afraid of herself. It wasn't his fault she'd felt unneeded from the minute of her birth, always apart. It wasn't his fault that she needed something more to become to escape the terror of being nothing at all.

He'd told her from the beginning, from the first time she kissed him that he was unsure, that it wasn't right, that there might not be a happy ending. She'd chased him anyway. She'd been the one to pull him to her every time. That night in the clearing, she'd wanted her markings taken. It made them closer. It made them bound. It made her his.

Nuriel would have understood. Her mother would have understood.

Elgar'nan, in his greed, may have done worse to the world than she had, may have wanted things that no one should want and torn apart a world for them. She wasn't evil. But she was herself, and Solas had never tempted her when she didn't want him to. He hadn't tortured her or enjoyed her pain as she'd accused him of in her mind. He'd simply wanted her when he shouldn't.

Were they really so different? And yet he still believed in her goodness, through her anger both deserved and undeserved.

He thought he had no worth, and that was partially her fault. There were more apologies for them both in the future. But for now, she would believe in him, in return.

Fear howled behind her as she twisted her power into it and accepted what she knew was no longer weakness. _I love him. Wise or unwise, returned or unreturned, I choose this. Neither of us are alone. Let us make an end._

When she knelt beside him and wrapped her arms around his shaking shoulders, he didn't seem to notice. He was lost in some internal hellscape, and she didn't know how to pull him out.

One of the watching spirits circled outside of the cage whispered, "Solas." Pride. Yes. That's what he lacked. Confidence. She could feel the hole inside of him as a physical thing. This was why he'd been so different. Not manipulation, but an ache where a part of himself should be. Not the overwhelming, overpowering arrogance of a being designed for a purpose, but the gentle belief of his soul.

She looked at the demons around her and frowned. The spirits had sent them here intentionally, that much she'd gathered. Fear she understood. Despair as well, from what she now knew. Why Pride? There was nothing there to tempt this man anymore, and yet the spirits thought he was needed.

The thought curled at the back of her mind as she held him, trying to send him comfort and strength. She realized she was speaking, pouring thoughts into the empty place in his soul. It was the same urgent pleading as a prayer, but in this she worshipped only him. She gave him love and comfort. He was worthwhile. He was wanted. He wasn't alone.

It was working, slowly healing him inside. But it wasn't enough. She didn't want his only confidence to be from her. He needed his own.

When she told him he was stronger than the demon, a part of Pride flashed and the spirits whispered. She stopped speaking and looked up quickly, trying to see it again. Something had happened. Something important. She spoke of power and will again and another flash came, and this time she had it. The swirling arrogance of Solas was in the demon, and he heard her.

_Of course he'd thought he could win against a demon. Of course he'd find the biggest, strongest one to join,_ she thought a little wryly. But she was glad, because it was what Fen'Harel needed. Both of his aspects together would be stronger than either alone.

As would Ellana. She laughed and reminded herself to tell him that, when he was whole again.

Slowly she remembered Solas's heart. The heat in his eyes that was his confidence, the dark wanting, the physicality he couldn't hold back. He was strong, as strong as anyone she'd ever met, and it was that more than anything that had driven her desire. His was the challenge that was all the more alluring for the times he'd given in to her.

Fen'Harel was soft love and belief, and that was good. It was better than good to know that devotion lived inside of him. But Solas made her heart race. His fingers on her skin, light and teasing. His mouth on hers, bruising and beautiful. She'd tried every trick she had to make him wild, and it was never enough to overcome him, but it was always enough to make him respond. He would respond to her now.

The Pride demon started to come apart from the inside as Solas fought himself towards her. Fen'Harel looked up. He seemed to realize she was there for the first time and tried to speak. She shushed him with a kiss.

It started out slow and sweet, like his love, but by the time the last of his pieces settled into place it was hungry and yearning. In their war for dominance, neither of them noticed when the prison vanished, the demons fled, and the spirits drifted away to leave them alone.


	21. Beauty

In the end, neither of them won the battle, which was the way it should be. Instead they enjoyed the give and take, the pressure and release, and the wanting and needing that flowed through their lips. The Fade shaped itself around their powers, her anchor and his spells, until it settled on a room they knew very well.

The Inquisitor's bedchambers were comfortable even outside of dreams. Inside they were perfection, and when Ellana noticed their new location she laughed. She rolled away and stood. "Anxious to get me into bed again?"

"Yes," he said simply and directly, and she shivered. He didn't move, only stared at her with those burning eyes she hadn't let herself believe she'd missed. But they softened, just a touch, as he smiled. "But I wasn't the one who brought us here, I believe."

"I was just thinking about all of the paperwork I'll have to catch up on when I return," she said. She walked to her desk and ran her fingers over it. "I suppose my mind must have been wandering."

Fen'Harel, or Solas - even she didn't know - leaned back against the headboard. "Solas has returned just in time, it seems, to bolster my wounded ego. Fortunately he also knows that you have no talent in lies."

"I'm a very good liar!"

He raised an eyebrow at her. She put her hands on her hips and mock-glared at him. "I win plenty of games of Wicked Grace."

"Yes, they do like to keep their leader happy." When her glare turned real, he held up his hands in surrender. "You're too beautiful for me to argue with, my heart. If I admit you lie better than a Rivaini pirate, will you ignore your waiting paperwork for a time?"

She gave in quickly and settled herself on his lap. "I'll try my best to focus."

He hummed appreciatively as she ran her hands over his chest and grinned. When she made to slip her hands under his tunic, he stopped her gently. "Wait. There are words that must be said."

"Solas was never that interested in words," she said wickedly while she moved her free hand to the waist of his leggings.

He breathed in sharply but didn't close his eyes. "No. But I'm not him. Not only." A hint of uncertainty flashed across his face. "Is he who you want me to be?"

She stopped, startled. "No. Of course not." He looked even more uncertain, and she amended, "Not only. There were many things I appreciated about him, but he had no capacity for love."

"No. He had trouble seeing beyond himself."

"And pride alone is not enough to build a partnership."

"He was not a nice man."

She hesitated but eventually nodded. "But Fen'Harel is too passive without him. Where Solas hurt me because he couldn't care, Fen'Harel hurt me because he couldn't want."

"I did," he said quietly. "Very much."

"Not enough. His heart always came first. And he backed away from the bed to guard me because of it. It wasn't an evil intention, but it hurt no less. I wanted to be an object of desire that couldn't be denied." She looked away, embarrassed. "I thought I liked sex well enough before I met Solas. But he made me realize I didn't know what desire really meant. The things he made me want…"

He caught her chin and brought her back to him. His eyes glittered. "I look forward to learning all about them. Your useless lust is very interesting to me, Inquisitor."

Her breath caught even as she tried to scold him. "You said you'd forget that."

"I'm also a good liar, my heart. I will never forget it.

His finger rubbed across her jaw and drifted down her shoulder, to her arm, to her hand. When he reached it, he pulled it to his lips for a light, easy kiss. She growled at him, and he smiled. "So you prefer us both, in turns?"

"I prefer you. Whole. Fen'Harel and Solas. That night, in the camp, when we were finally together, it was both. The desire and the love. That's what I want."

"I will grow old and die," he said. There was fear on his face.

"So will I," she said gently. "I'd rather not do it alone."

He closed his eyes, and the room flickered around them. Shade and light danced in the distance, like the sun between the leaves of a tree as they shook in the wind. She laughed as his power flowed out of him. A hundred scenes of a thousand places presented themselves to her in an instant, and she understood each one as if she'd lived it.

When they stopped, she looked down at him. His eyes were still closed and a tear ran down his cheek. She smoothed it away as he concentrated one more time, and then Arlathan was around them.

She didn't need to ask what it was. He'd described it to her well once, but it was also a place that announced itself in every line. There were no mistakes to be made, nothing else it could be.

_Skyhold will be known this way, one day,_ she thought wonderingly.

The view was full of white, crystal spires, and graceful architecture that invoked nature but didn't choke it. The towers stretched past her seeing, and she knew that if she could look high enough, buildings would float overhead. "It's beautiful," she whispered.

"Yes," said Fen'Harel. She looked down on him, and there was less pain there than she'd feared. He stared unblinkingly to the heavens he'd conjured. "I lived a thousand lifetimes here. It wasn't enough. I lived hundreds more in the world after it fell. It was too many. And now I have only one left. Do you understand how that feels?"

"Not entirely," she said honestly. "It's hard to understand the mind of a god."

"I am no god," he snarled to the heavens.

She shivered. His voice held the hint of the wolf that would never leave him and would never frighten her. She caressed his cheek. "We have no other word for one like you, my heart. And you have at least one worshipper, even now."

A reluctant smile lifted his mouth. "If that's the criteria, then you are also a goddess, Ellana Lavellan. And if I'm to have only one more lifetime, I will dedicate it to you."

"Good," she said.

He kissed her softly as the spires melted away around them. Skyhold didn't return, only the neutral landscape of the Fade. The bed remained, and she was grateful for its softness as the kiss deepened. He held her to him with terrifying strength, but there was no terror in her.

As she felt herself reaching desire's tipping point, she tore her mouth away and moved it to his ear. "You said Solas wasn't a nice man, and that's true. He wasn't. But that's not what hurt." His hands caressed her back as he listened. She made sure to brush her lips over the tip of his ear, and the low groan in his throat almost destroyed her. "He wasn't kind. That's where he was cruel. Fen'Harel is kind, and I love you all the more for it."

She whispered so quietly she could barely hear her own words. "I will always treasure kindness, love. But don't ever imagine that I'm looking for someone nice."

She punctuated the last word by biting him lightly, and he nearly jumped out of his skin underneath her. "Where did Cole take you?" he asked heatedly. His fist was a vise around her wrist.

"The woods. I don't know. By the stream, near the boulders," she said, confused.

"Wake up," he said.

* * *

She did, lying against a tree with Cole watching her. "You have got to be kidding me," she muttered.

"Did it work?" asked Cole. "Your mind is not so sharp with hurting. But you are angry and that is also sharp."

"I was just unceremoniously dumped out of a very pleasant dream, so yes, I am a bit angry." But happier than she'd been in a long time, as well. She settled back and waited. Fen'Harel would be here.

"You know his name! It did work. I helped," said Cole, and he smiled at her like a pleased child.

She was smiling back when a familiar figure entered through the trees. By the look of it, he'd been running.

"Good evening, Cole," Fen'Harel said calmly. "Thank you for your help. Please leave."

* * *

He had his clothes off before he even reached her, only moments after the spirit had gone. The hunger in her eyes pleased him, and he paused unashamedly to let her examine his body. "Am I acceptable?"

She shrugged. "Passable."

He grinned. The way her hands shook as she lifted her own shirt belied her casual tone, but even now she wouldn't fully give in. Fen'Harel was dying to touch her, but the newly acquired piece of himself demanded that he wait. Solas enjoyed being watched.

She removed her tunic, then her leggings, with painful slowness, and his eyes memorized every strip of new skin that was bared. Last time had been secret and quick, and he hadn't taken the time to appreciate her. That wouldn't happen again.

At last she was as bare as he was and too excited to be shy. He licked his lips. "Solas wanted you this way," he said. He heard the earthy rumble in his voice that he couldn't stop.

"Naked?" she asked with a laugh.

He laughed as well and knelt at her feet. "Yes. Naked under the moonlight, where your hair would be silvered and shining, and your eyes would look just like they do now. Heavy and hot." His hands slipped up her calves, kneading and caressing in turns. "He always liked the woods. He liked that you smelled of them even after weeks in Skyhold."

Her lip caught in her teeth as he reached her thighs. "And how does Fen'Harel feel?"

"He's found the perfection he sought for too long." When he heard her sigh, he brushed his hand over her center. The sigh turned into a gasp that was more satisfying that she would ever know. She arched her hips into his hand and groaned when he kept moving. She glared at him through eyes that were even heavier with desire than before and asked him a silent, demanding question.

Fen'Harel cocked his head. "You said you wanted both of us together. And we both want to take our time."

"I should have thought that through more. I never could get Solas to do what I wanted, in anything."

She stopped talking briefly as his hands found her breasts and teased them. He was fully above her now, straddling her body, but she made no attempt to press up against him, submitting to his pace. Her hand raised to drift a finger lightly along his cheek. "Now you're going to be just as stubborn."

"Mmm. Probably." He reached back down and touched her again with more pressure. She moaned and urged him on. He circled her more quickly, dipping inside to feel the heat and wetness of her core before pulling back to the place she demanded of him. Oh, she was very ready for him. He wasn't going to be far behind.

"On the other hand, night won't last forever, and I could possibly be… persuaded." He kissed her deeply and pulled back. "With the right tactics."

She smiled wickedly and abandoned her passivity. Her lips danced across his neck, nipping and biting. Her hands snaked around his back, pulling him hard against her. He arched up over her to press himself more fully to her thigh, and she responded by moving her legs just slightly, just enough to bring him to complete hardness.

When he looked down on her, her eyes were summoning, challenging, as they'd been the day she dropped her archer's mask and became. If only he'd understood her, then. Now there was no one between them, real or imagined, and he would still take whatever she would give. He would make sure it was everything.

The sweet torture continued for a time, both of them working to make the other break. It was a very motivated and self-directed course in learning each other's greatest pleasures. At last, after a particularly aggressive kiss, by unspoken agreement they broke, together. Ellana worked her hips until he was poised at her entrance and stopped. Her eyes were still wicked, but they were also serious, waiting for him to be sure.

He knew what he was. But the same question lingered in his own mind. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Not sex. Not a night of pleasure. His life. His allegiance. His past. It was a lot to ask her to hold, and she held so much already.

She understood. "Yes. I promise. I want nothing more and nothing less than all of you. You will always have a place with me, no matter where I go." Her teeth gleamed in the moonlight as she grinned mischievously. "The Dread Wolf take me, as I tell the truth."

The string inside of him snapped, the one that had been drawing back since the minute he'd grabbed her hand and felt the power, his power, flowing through her to seal a rift. Since the minute she'd asked her first question about the Fade and listened to the answer, as solemn and sober as the oldest spirit. Wisdom and power and goodness and beauty, together in this woman he would never be without again.

He thrust inside of her and almost lost control at her cry.

He held steady, still and quiet, and felt her breathing under him. Perfection lived in this moment, and he would carry it with him. There were tears in his eyes, he realized, and it surprised him how little embarrassment he felt at them. He kissed her lips, her nose, her cheek, and then her ear as he moved ever so slightly in her. She rocked up to meet him, and it was everything.

"Promises. I promise to love you, Ellana Lavellan, when you need to be loved. To want you, when you need to be wanted." He moved again, more strongly, and she gripped his shoulders and pled with him silently to continue. "I promise to tease you, but never too much. I promise to let you be in charge, as long as I don't disagree with the decisions."

Even with their rhythm rising, still slow but quickening, even with the tension he could feel in her arms and her hands and her shoulders, she still found the presence of mind to smack him.

He huffed a laugh as he exhaled. Almost time. Almost time to send them over the edge. "I promise my faith, my trust and my heart to your care. May they never falter. By the light of holy Arlathan, these things I promise."

He kissed her again, and he tasted his tears on her lips.

"Please," she whispered against his mouth, and he obliged her. He wrapped a hand around her shoulder and drove himself into her. His hips ground against her own and the sharp "Oh!" she gave was all he needed to encourage him. Faster and faster, deeper and stronger, until the pleasure was all there was. Under the moonlight, in the forest of her old home, they found a new home in each other.


	22. Beginnings

Something was different when he woke. Not the woman breathing contentedly on his shoulder, not the sunlight through the trees instead of the moon, but something more fundamental. He blinked sleep from his eyes and tried very hard to ignore the soft body calling out to him under the blanket they shared. Part of him was very much occupied by it.

His mind focused, and he tensed in new places. A blanket. They hadn't had that when they fell asleep.

"Relax, Chuckles, we didn't look."

"Much. Impressive toolset you're working with."

Varric and Iron Bull. Perfect. Better than her parents, at least. And he and Ellana were adults, not children sneaking off without supervision. He tried to shake the feeling of guilty wrongdoing as he turned his head to look at them. Both members of the Inquisition were sitting on a nearby rock with their breakfast.

He took in the sun's position. Or perhaps an early lunch.

"How did you even know where we were?" he asked in a low voice.

"We found the kid walking this way with an armful of cloth, chattering about how you would both get cold on the ground with no clothes," said Varric.

Iron Bull grinned. "Couldn't let him lose his innocence so unexpectedly, not after he got two earfuls from her sister about raised expectations and tender hearts. We volunteered to help him out."

"How thoughtful," said Fen'Harel dryly.

Varric placed a hand over his heart nobly. Fen'Harel glared. "You can leave now, though, with full gratitude for your kindness."

"This is a nice rock," said Bull. "Think it could use some more sitting."

He sighed. Short of magicking them away, which Ellana would probably frown on and might get him attacked by a very large sword, there was little he could do. He brushed a finger over her face and shrugged his shoulder under her head. "Ellana. Wake up."

He was surprised to find himself shy of endearments in front of their friends. He tugged the blanket a little higher as she looked up at him owlishly, then lunged to keep her laying under it as she saw the sunlight.

"It's almost mid-morning!" she said. "Get off of me! Where did this blanket come from?" She froze. "Oh no."

He shrugged helplessly as she peered around him. When he turned, Varric and Bull were waving with gusto. "Good morning, Your Worship. The Seeker is going to love hearing about this."

"Go away!"

"I'm afraid we can't. We're guards. Guarding you. Commander's orders for this trip," said Varric, saluting.

Fen'Harel rubbed a hand over his eyes as she sat up with the blanket wrapped around her and reached for her shirt. It was just out of her grasp. She glowered at it, then at the dwarf. "I'm the Inquisitor. I countermand his orders."

"Ah, shit. Can't argue with chain of command. But before we leave, would you like me to get your shirt? I'll even put it back on you. Eventually," Bull said, winking.

Even though he knew he was being baited, he couldn't stop a growl deep in his throat. The Qunari smiled and gestured for a fight, but Ellana placed a soothing hand on his chest. Or maybe not so soothing. When he looked back at her, her eyes were the molten gold that bypassed all of his most rational thoughts. _She likes the growling. I'll remember that._

Fortunately Varric's voice brought him back. His hands held a quill and a piece of parchment. "One last thing. Would you describe last night's activities as 'inflamed', 'vehement', or 'persistent'? If you had to choose one."

* * *

The voyeurs, still entirely too pleased with themselves, eventually left them alone to dress. Fen'Harel wasn't able to resist running his hands over her disappearing skin as she did, no matter how much she protested that they didn't have time and everyone was going to be looking for her. "They'll know exactly what we did!"

"Good," he said, Solas's voice rising out of his mind. She turned her back to him as she straightened the last of her clothing, and he pulled her flush against him. "If other people are going to be seeing you naked, I want them to know you're claimed." He brushed a finger over a small bruise on her neck for emphasis.

"First, I'd love to say no one will ever see me naked, but my chambers at Skyhold always have someone wandering in. Second, that's a bit possessive of you," she said indignantly.

"Yes. I'm very possessive, you'll find. Goes with the wolf spirit."

He nibbled her ear, and she squirmed.

"But he obeyed me, not you, in the end. Does that mean you're claimed by me?" she asked.

"Of course."

"Well," she said, mollified, "I guess that's okay then."

When she pushed out of his arms, he didn't try to restrain her this time. She turned around and looked at him seriously. "Before we go back. About what you said last night."

"You'll have to be more specific, my heart. I said many things, not all of them entirely coherent."

The corners of her mouth turned up. "Yes. I meant the promises you made. They sounded very formal. Like humans give at weddings." She was no longer smiling, and she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Was that what they were? Did you become my… husband?" she asked, searching for an unfamiliar word.

"The Dalish don't marry. Handfasts are temporary, convenient," he said as a non-answer.

She crossed her arms and said nothing.

He sighed. "Neither did Arlathan. Another practice your people found correctly on accident. Even Elgar'nan and Mythal were not wed, despite the Creator's identities they took. We took lovers, yes, sometimes for long periods. Never for life."

"Did you have a lover?" she asked. There was no judgment in her voice, only curiosity.

"I had lovers, but never for long. And very rarely after I became the Dread Wolf. There was little interest, for me or them." He looked away. "What I said were more like the vows made to a god when you became a slave."

She looked stricken. "That's not what I want this to be."

"Nor I. The vows were not exact. But they seemed the right kind of promises to make, in the moment. Those words were ugly and cruel for my people. With you, they're beautiful. Like the prayers you speak to unworthy gods," he said.

"I see," she said. And she seemed to, which amazed him more than anything so far. She looked at him squarely. "I was Dalish. I live among humans. I'm neither one nor the other, now. The Inquisitor is her own. I think I would like to be married, in the human way, with you. Like Andraste and her Maker."

"How pious of you," he said with mock surprise. She shrugged a little and smiled. He thought deeply, then nodded. "I, too, am my own. If it can be done outside of a Chantry, let it be done."

"Oh yes. No Chantry will be involved. It will be in the woods, with open skies and moonlight. And large trees to hide behind when needed." Her eyes sparkled.

He held his hand out to her, and she took it. "In this, I defer entirely to you."

* * *

She was sure it was wrong to be so happy on the day of a funeral, and the guilt more than anything was what tempered it, because the happiness was a fountain inside of her that couldn't be stilled. Fen'Harel came to the fore in her lover, and she was thankful for his understanding. _Dirthamen, forgive me my joy and keep it hidden,_ she prayed, though she knew he was past her hearing. But if she'd learned anything, it was that she never knew when a god might turn up to help.

Her mother knew anyway, of course. The mysteries of her children were no mystery, as she'd said. Before the first speaker began, she pulled Ellana to her in a tight hug. "Falon would be pleased for you," she whispered. "He believed very strongly in love."

"Did he?" she asked. "That seems very unlike him."

"It was not a thing he would have told his younger sisters. But his lover, she will remember it. And he will never be gone, for her, while she lives in Lavellan."

They looked at Thalia, who stood apart and silent with the child who was hers alone. "She is welcome in Skyhold, if she wishes it. Both of them are."

The first speaker began, and her mother smiled in acknowledgement. They turned towards the fire that was small and gentle, but would become an inferno as each speaker added their fuel. After she spoke the memories and the rites, she fed it with her gentlest fire, the one that would always blaze but never burn, and for the rest of the night she felt her power sustaining her brother's spirit across the Beyond, and was glad.

* * *

The next morning, it was time to leave. Her vacation had already stretched to the breaking point, and Josephine needed to prop her up once again in the Great Hall for influential visitors to stare at. She was mostly necessary as a visual for power rather than as herself, but it was the job she'd accepted, and she tried to be gracious about it. And it would be good to be in her second home again. She'd never admit it to Lavellan, but beds were by far the best things humans had ever invented.

Nuriel was withdrawn and quiet, but Fen'Harel assured her that the cuts weren't as deep as she feared while they packed her things. "She has been through much, your sister. But she'll recover, through the wisdom of Lavellan. Cole did well with her spirit, and as a human. Gentle hurts only." He smiled at her. "Your sister is a wolf, always circling and looking for new prey. It will be again."

"You would know," she said. "Am I a wolf, too?"

"No. You are a predator who stands still and fascinates the prey into its own sacrifice," he said, laughing. She threw a shirt at him. He caught it adroitly and handed it back with a searing kiss. "It was no complaint."

* * *

When they stepped out into the day, the Clan was waiting. The Keeper led them, and he made a gesture that she should speak. _What do you want me to say?_ she asked silently, but he was clearly expecting something specific. His eyes flicked once to her lover, and then she understood, though she didn't know how he knew what she was planning to do. Her stomach clenched. No more a daughter of Lavellan, after this. A daughter of herself. But still a friend. Please, still a friend.

"Before I go, I must say this." She kept her voice quiet and strong. "When we return to Skyhold, Solas and I will wed. Like a handfast, but in a human way."

A murmur ran through the crowd, though neither of her parents looked surprised. Some were shocked, but most only smiled behind their hands. She was encouraged by their acceptance, but they stopped smiling as she continued. "He will not become Lavellan. I will join his Clan."

Fen'Harel's head twisted to hers in shock, and she squeezed his hand in apology. She'd meant to talk to him about this first.

"He has no Clan!" protested the First. She scowled. "You forsake your kind for human ways. After we have given so much for you, a mage who should have been cast aside."

Her voice was bitterly disapproving, and Ellana remembered what Nuriel had said about the favor she'd had but never noticed. There was nothing she could do about it now.

Iron Bull seemed to disagree with the woman's tone and gripped his sword in a way that meant trouble. Ellana gave him a forbidding look and continued. "I forsake nothing."

Her voice became the flinty command of the Inquisitor, and she showed them the side of her that Lavellan had always seen only at a distance. "My feet walk in the woods and on the stone. My heart lies in both worlds. Neither are forsaken. Solas's Clan is both ancient and new. It will begin again, with those who will join it. A new kind of tribe. Those whose feet are also in two worlds at once, whether they were Dalish or not." The words weren't planned but felt right on her lips.

Thalia stepped forward with her daughter on her hip. "I will join this new Clan," she said formally, and Ellana knew at that minute that the Keeper and her mother had planned this. She sighed. Even the Inquisitor would always have people two steps ahead of her. But even the Keeper looked surprised when Thalia added, "Please take the marks from my face as well, so that I may join cleanly."

To his credit, Fen'Harel didn't hesitate. As he'd done with her, his hands ran over the woman's face, and Ellana saw the familiar flash of grief in her expression before the glow faded.

Thalia touched her face wonderingly when it was over, but Ellana knew that the difference couldn't be felt under the fingers. It would be felt in the soul.

"Welcome to your new Clan, sister," said Fen'Harel, and he looked at Ellana questioningly.

The Keeper asked the question aloud. "What will this ancient yet new Clan be called, child?"

"Revasan," she said immediately, without thought. "A place of living freedom, for those who seek it."

He nodded in approval. "Then may I also join your new world, as the former Keeper of Lavellan? I would like to see a place where there is something more than Dalish before I go. However, I kindly ask my new Keeper to leave my markings as they are." He tipped his head to Fen'Harel slightly. "They are a needed memory."

Fen'Harel only stared at him, and Ellana knew her face was no less amazed. The First stepped forward in shock. "Keeper!"

"I am that no more, Keeper of Lavellan. It is time for new traditions, both in and out of our world. Lead wisely, teacher," the old Keeper said.

He turned back to Fen'Harel before the Clan's murmurs could grow too loud. To her surprise, a few others were already waiting quietly to join them, eager looks on their faces. The Keeper said in a low voice, "And what name will you choose, man who is not only Solas? Pride is no label for a Keeper, you know."

Her lover smiled then, a true, joyous smile she'd never seen him wear. "Sahlin," he said. "My new world is only now."

"Yes. May you make this moment a good one, for us all."

When they left, her old family waving and confused, her new family close and hopeful, and her friends standing in between, she thought to herself, _It will be good, from the first to the last. And Thedas will be perfect because we will be._

She took her lover's hand in hers, and he turned his joy on her. More than joy. Everything he felt, warming her inside and out. Partners at last.

_So the Inquisitor commands._


End file.
